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in 2013 







Gertrude of Wyoming. 



!©a#)ingtou : 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, 


In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of 





The traveller, in the boundless lands, 
Where the fair West its stores expands, 
Oft marks with cheerful green unblent, 
High pil'd to Heaven the bleak ascent ; 
But as along the vale he sweeps, 
More gently swell the fir clad steeps, 
Till all the sunny summit rise 
With golden crown amid the skies. 


Sleep has been aptly called "nature's grand resto- 
rative," and is at onee a temporary refuge from distress, 
and one of the best preparations for its endurance. — 
From the toils of the mind and of the body, it is alike 
a relief, and embraces, without distinction, the prince 
and the beggar. 

In the enjoyment of this comfort did the various te- 
nants of Mr. Holland's mansion fit themselves for their 
respective duties on the day following, and get rid of 
the effects of their different grievances on the preceding. 
The lawyers, according to their wont, indulged them- 
selves in late morning sleep, with its accompanying 
visions of pleasure, until the announcement of breakfast. 
But the earliest crowing of the cock roused to their 
labors the busy family, and Gideon was prompt in 
following their example. Taking leave of his kind 
entertainers, he repaired to Waynesville, and found 
Eoneguski impatiently waiting his arrival. The latter 
had been a good deal alarmed when first missing his 
young friend, and, through the hands of Mercury, 


gathered together his moveables, which Gideon's own 
disordered mind had forgotten, and to which the atten- 
tion of Mr. Holland had not been drawn. These the 
Indian carefully preserved, to be replaced in the posses- 
sion of their owner as soon as they should meet again. 
Upon diligent inquiry, he learned whither Gideon had 
gone, and all uneasiness was at an end when he traced 
him to the keeping of Moses Holland. 

Many of the Cherokees who were at Waynesville 
the day before had already preceded them towards the 
Indian country, and others were preparing to march in 
the same direction. Gideon was gratified to find his 
property, about which he began to feel some uneasiness, 
in the hands of his swarthy friend ; but the buoyancy of 
spirits with which he had set out upon his expedition 
was greatly diminished by the reduced weight of his 
purse, and the recollection of the contemptible figure 
he must have cut at Waynesville under the influence of 
spirits. Nor did it escape his observation that Eone- 
guski was less cheerful than he had been previous to 
their arrival, although he was entirely ignorant of the 

Nothing remarkable occurred on their journey, 
which now lay along an Indian trail in a southwesterly 
direction, frequently crossing and re-crossing Richland 
Creek, and failing this noisy attendant, they soon found 
themselves pursuing, in the same way, the course of 
another stream called Scott's Creek. Here the scenery 
became more wild — the Balsam towered above them in 
dark majesty, generally throwing its shade upon the 
stream, which, now and then escaping into bright sun- 
shine, sparkled, as in delight, to feel the genial warmth . 
But whether in sunshine or in shade, Scott's Creek 
gushed along its rocky bed, furiously lashing those 
huge hard impediments against which it incessantly 
smote, and ever throwing up its spray as it recoiled 
from these rough encounters. With renewed courage 
it glided past them, foaming and bubbling — here making 
melody with a regular tinkling flash, and there hissing 


continually, as in hot displeasure. But they chose not 
to follow Scott's Creek through all the sinuosities by 
which it found its way to the Tuckasege, but leaving it 
to quarrel and fret alone the remainder of its rough 
journey, they struck across to that river by a nearer 

Having passed the Tuckasege, they did not rely upon 
the guidance of Savanna Creek from its very mouth, but 
cutting across another angle of four or five miles, they 
encountered this stream some distance above, and avoided 
an hour of unnecessary travelling. Having here fallen 
in with it, however, they left it no more until it con- 
ducted them up the steep side of the Cowee Mountain, 
the most easy and practicable route. On reaching 
the summit of this mountain, a large section of what 
was then, and still is, called the Tennessee Valley, 
was spread out before them. But Gideon could not 
avoid an expression of astonishment at the apparent 
incongruity of the name and the thing. To be sure, 
he found himself upon the summit of a mountain, the 
side of which, when he looked down it westwardly, 
seemed nearly perpendicular ; and, in the distant haze 
of the horizon, over against him, mountains still more 
lofty lifted up their heads, in silvery brightness, bor- 
rowed from the snow with which they were crown- 
ed. But in the intermediate space called' the Valley, 
mountain beyond mountain rose in thick array, appa- 
rently leaving not a spot of level ground for the eye to 
rest upon. As they descended Gideon could not fail to 
remark a considerable increase of temperature, and, 
upon closer observation, not only a greater advance, by 
two or three weeks, of vegetation, but numerous plants 
were discovered entirely unknown on the opposite side 
of the mountain. A great change in the nature of the 
soil was also perceptible; the light dark mould pre- 
valent on the eastern side being exchanged on the 
western for a compact hard clay, of a hue somewhat 
resembling brick dust, with occasional veins of sand 
running through it. 


As they descended towards the valley the air be- 
came still more mild, and Gideon remembered the 
promise of Eoneguski, that " here he would find the 
game more plenty, and that the sun would shine more 
brightly." Part of it he found realized, and his doubts 
were removed as to the remainder. 

Continuing to descend, their way became less pre- 
cipitous until they reached the Tennessee River, on the 
near side of which an Indian hut or two was scattered 
among fields almost level, presenting the appearance of 
long use, and having suffered seriously from improvident 
culture. Similar fields occupied the acclivity of the 
opposite bank, with a very narrow slip of irregular 
low ground running along the margin of the stream. 
On the farther side of these fields, about one-fourth 
of a mile from the river, rose the village of Eonee. 
" There," said the Indian, pointing to it, with a rather 
melancholy smile, "is the home of Eoneguski." 

While they were preparing to cross the Tennessee, 
a mound of earth, about one hundred yards from its 
margin, in the direction they were going, attracted the 
attention of Gideon. It was evidently not the work of 
nature, but had been accumulated with great exertion 
of human toil. Whether the earth of which it was 
composed had been gathered from the ground immedi- 
ately around it, or brought from a distance, could not 
be determined with any certainty. It was situated on 
the most extensive level which, in that vicinity, the low 
grounds of the Tennessee afforded. On one side of it 
flowed that river, and on the other a small swampy 
creek, which, so far as we have ever learned, is not 
honored with a name. The mound was, at the base, 
about four hundred feet in circumference, and that side 
of it which fronted the angle formed by the junction of 
the river and creek, in a northerly direction, rose to the 
height of twenty or twenty-five feet in a cone, forming 
an angle with the surface of the earth of about seventy 
or seventy-five degrees. This was probably the case 
with the whole circumference ; but on the opposite side 


from the one which fronted the junction of the creek 
and river, a projection sloped off in a southerly direc- 
tion about fifty feet in width, forming a gradual and 
easy ascent from the level ground to the summit, where 
was a smooth area about sixty-six feet in circumference, 
surrounded by an embankment about two feet high. — 
Upon it, and around it, were scattered here and there 
small fragments of what had evidently once been earth- 
en vessels of great antiquity; but how they had come 
there, or to w T hat purposes been applied, were matters 
for conjecture. 

Gideon had frequently heard of what were called 
by those who spake, " Indian mounts," as well as vari- 
ous suppositions as to how they were erected, and for 
what objects designed, but he had never seen hem ; 
and as their course now lay directly past one, Eonegus- 
ki could not refuse so far to gratify his curiosity as to 
allow him a few moments to examine it. All that he 
had heard about these mounds now flashed upon his 
mind. One theory was, that, in compliance with a 
superstition among them, the Indians within a certain 
district of country brought, each, a spadefull of earth 
from the land he cultivated to an appointed place, by 
which Heaven was propitiated, and fertility imparted to 
the soil, and the seasons rendered fruitful : and that the 
earth thus collected, was thrown up into a regular 
shaped " mount" This theory seemed to derive coun- 
tenance from the fact, that the mound now before 
him, so far as he could discover, was entirely compo- 
sed of rich soil, and that no portion of dead unfruitful 
matter entered into its formation. Besides, there was 
but little appearance of the earth immediately around 
it having been deprived of any of its original eleva- 

Another theory was, that those " mounts" were 
places of sepulture for the dead. But the only circum- 
stance which seemed to have any bearing upon this 
question was, that there were scattered around the one 
under observation, very small fragments of what were 


once apparently the bones of some animal, but whether 
they ever formed a portion of that wonderful fabric 
" man," he was compelled to leave to Cuvier, or some 
other person better skilled than himself to decide. 

He had heard, also, that these mounds were erected as 
trophies of victory by the successful party, on the scenes 
of great battles distinguished in the bloody traditionary 
annals of the warlike aborigines. But to the truth or 
falsehood of this supposition he could find no clue. 

Again, it had been said they were designed as places 
of strength when the country was assailed by an invading 
foe. If any thing gave the slightest color to this suppo- 
sition, it was that those spike-formed stones, supposed to 
have been used by the Indians to head their arrows, 
before they became acquainted with iron and fire-arms, 
and commonly called " Indian arrows," were found 
there in considerable abundance ; and that the position 
acquired strength from being flanked and fronted by the 
river and the creek, the remaining side communicating 
exclusively with the defenders, who, successively ascend- 
ing in parties, as their predecessors became weary, or 
expended their ammunition, might, from the command- 
ing elevation of the mount, more effectually annoy the 
enemy, while their own force was placed by it in com- 
parative safety. But these circumstances were more 
than counterbalanced by its being evident to the eye 
most unpractised in military affairs, that means of de- 
fence much more simple, less costly, and incomparably 
better fitted for the purpose, could not have escaped the 
attention of the rudest warrior. Besides, the very small 
number of men which it was capable of receiving, and 
the certainty that an enemy, the least gifted with craft, 
by making a small circuit, might come upon their rear, 
or take some other route, rendered such expensive labor 
of little utility. 

The last supposition, and probably the most plausible 
he called to his recollection, was, that they were erected 
for religious purposes. In connection with this idea, 
he had heard the fragments of earthen vessels spoken 


of as being the remains of those used on sacrificial 
occasions. He also observed, what had at first escaped 
his notice, another mound, not more than one-tenth the 
size of the larger, a few feet to the eastward of it, with 
a plain oval summit ; but this furnished no additional 
light to the subject of his speculations. 

Hastily leaving this novelty, out of deference to an 
impatience which he concluded Eoneguski would feel 
to embrace his father after so long an absence, Gideon, 
not without some sense of delicacy lest he might be 
prying into matters which, from the uncertainty attend- 
ing them, he reasonably inferred were the subjects of 
profound secrecy among the Indians, inquired of Eone- 
guski the origin and design of those mounts. 

" Those mounts/' said the Indian, " have filled the 
soul of Eoneguski with wonder no less than that of 
his white brother. — The Oewoehee have not always 
peopled these hills and valleys. — Many moons ago," he 
continued, catching up a handful of sand and shaking it, 
as he extended his hand toward Gideon, to signify more 
than he could count, "before the white people came 
across the great waters, the fathers of my people hunt- 
ed their game on the hills which lie far away yonder, 
(pointing towards the northeast,) — .but the Great Spirit 
was angry with his children, and sent the angel of 
death to destroy them ; — they fell thicker and faster 
than the vanquished in battle — but they saw not the 
warrior by whose arm they were smitten. Terror 
seized them — and they fled from the graves of their 
fathers — from the unburied bodies of their kindred — 
whose flesh was festering in the open air, and their 
bones bleaching in the sun and wind ; — for they had 
learnt that to touch them even for burial was death. 
They fled from the breath of the destroyer, and, like 
the wandering Iroquois, they travelled in search of 
another home, where the wing of the angel of death 
might not overtake them. Long, long they wandered, 
and passing by numerous tribes of their red brethren, 
who did not offer them the pipe of peace, and crossing 


streams wide and deep, to which the Tennessee is but 
as the papoose to the full grown warrior — they came to 
this land, resolved to perish or make it their place of 
rest. But the land was not empty — no, the Great Spirit 
hath left no part of his beautiful creation where the eye 
of man is not to enjoy it, and his heart to throb with 
gratitude to his Creator. But they came, as I have 
heard come the waves of the mighty ocean, which roil 
on and on, each forcing another from its place j — and 
thus did my fathers chase from their abodes the ancient 
inhabitants of this land, to yield it in their turn to the 
pale faces." He paused 

He resumed — " Yes, Gideon, come it will, when the 
Oewoehee must be swept from their homes by the 
children of thy people. — It may be when Gideon and 
Eoneguski have passed away to the land of the bless- 
ed; — but come it will." This was uttered with an 
emotion which somewhat disconcerted Gideon, but he 
made no answer. 

Eoneguski paused again, and then with more firm- 
ness continued, " The people whom my fathers found 
in this valley were taller and more comely than either 
your people or mine — they were fairer than we, but 
darker than you — they knew much, very much more 
than our people, but were far less wise than yours. 
They called themselves the children of the Sun, and 
worshipped fire as the Great Spirit. Our fathers have 
told us that they erected these mounts, but for what 
purpose they knew not. But they have passed away — 
far away — to the country where, it is said, they behold 
their god when he sinks to rest in the evening on the 
bosom of the great waters. They are gone. — The god 
whom they worshipped yet shines upon the land — but 
his children are not here to rejoice in his beams. — 
Not an echo is heard from the mountains which once 
rung with their voices. — You look in vain for one 
print of their footstep beside the mounts they erected. — 
They stand alone — and tell, in a voice which the ear 
hears not — that here they have been." 


From the tradition thus communicated by Eoneguski, 
and from many vestiges of a higher degree of civiliza- 
tion than that known to the Indians, being discovered 
in various parts of the country now constituting the 
United States of America, it seems probable that the 
same race of people which were found in Mexico and 
South America, originally made their way from some 
part of the old world to the northern portion of the 
continent of North America. In the regular spread 
of population, or attracted by a more genial clime, they 
were driven, like the precedent wave by its successor, 
by arrivals from the overcharged fountains of the trans- 
marine world, and gradually progressed southwardly. 
This idea is greatly confirmed by the heliotrophic habits, 
common to the Mexicans, with the people mentioned 
by Eoneguski. If this much be true, it is not unlike- 
ly that these mounds were erected for depositories of 
the sacred fire, whose light, from that elevated position, 
might at night be seen from a great distance, to cheer 
the hearts of the Ghebers. The water at hand, and the 
smaller mound were, it is probable, not without their 
use on sacrificial occasions. The wide and easy ascent 
on the one side was, probably, for the priests, while the 
uninitiated were gathered around the other sides of this 
huge altar. Perhaps even human victims were there 
offered up, and furnished the bones which have led so 
many to what we must think an erroneous conclusion, 
that these mounds were places of sepulture. 



The chief his old bewilder'd head withdrew, 
And clasped him by the arm, and looked him through 
and through. 


Filial duty is dignified in the divine law with the 
first place among the relative obligations of mankind, 
and the voice of nature echoes the celestial proclama- 
tion. Even among the inferior animals, love towards 
the authors of their being exists to some extent, and in 
the human family its greater or less development is one 
of the most distinctive marks by which the advance of 
an individual or class in moral excellence may be 
known. The total absence of it characterizes the mon- 
ster only, while its highest exhibitions touch the hearts 
of the beholders with the most delightful sense of moral 
beauty. It differs from parental love in being more of 
a sentiment and less of an instinct, although both these 
may partake, in some degree, of either quality. It is 
the first affection the heart can know, and is probably 
the root from whence the others spring, and in propor- 
tion to its strength so is apt to be that of all succeeding 
it. An affectionate son seldom fails to fulfil with pro- 
priety the subsequent relations of life. 

It was with no small share of this benevolent senti- 
ment that Eoneguski approached the hut of his father, 
filled at the same time with anxiety respecting his con- 
dition. The subject of the mound had beguiled the 
way between it and the wigwam of Eonah, where 
Gideon and Eoneguski found themselves ere they 
were aware. The aged chief did not advance to meet 
his son and his scarcely less welcome companion, but, 
bound by disease to his couch, could only in a recum- 


bent posture express his satisfaction at beholding them. 
He caused Gideon to stand up before him and place 
himself in every light and position, while he carefully 
studied his form, countenance, and manner. At length, 
shaking his head mournfully, "The eyes of Eonah 
are dim," he said, " and they look in vain for the 
form and features of his pale brother. — But why should 
I wonder ?" he added, with a bitter smile, " is any 
thing now as it was in the days that have long passed 
by? — and if Aymor himself now stood before me — 
how unlike would he be to that Aymor, who, more 
than three hundred moons ago, was a captive to the 
bow of Eonah ? Is not Eonah himself changed ? — 
Where is the fleetness of his foot ? — where the strength 
of his arm? — Never more will he join in the dance, 
either for peace or war." 

Eoneguski perceived with sorrow that the appre- 
hensions conveyed to his mind by Mercury were the 
shadows of a sad reality, and that although Eonah 
might possibly linger for a season, he was lying on 
that couch from whence he was never more to rise in 
his own strength. 

With the delicate politeness which one would scarcely 
have looked for in a savage, he had another wigwam 
arranged for Gideon, that he might not be disturbed 
by the infirmities of the aged chief. It was not long in 
being prepared, and Eoneguski, having seen Gideon 
comfortably fixed, according to his own ideas of com- 
fort, returned to the wigwam of Eonah. 

" The spirit of Eoneguski is sad," he said, addressing 
the old chief, " to see the hand of the Great Spirit laid 
in anger on his father." 

" Is the Great Spirit angry with all whom he afflicts !" 
inquired Eonah, in a faint voice. 

"Do the red men ever torture their friends?" said 
Eoneguski. " Is it not their enemies only, whom they 
have taken in battle ?" 

" Are all his creatures, then, the enemies of the Great 

VOL. II. 2. 


Spirit?" said the old chief; "for who is there that breathes, 
and is a stranger to affliction ?" 

" The Great Spirit himself only knows," replied the 
son ; "yet, surely, he never afflicts his children, but when 
they displease him. Has the Saga visited my father ?" 

" No," replied Eonah; "the chief of Eonee has seen 
too many moons, to believe that Susquanannacunahata 
is wiser than others — or that he is a favorite of the 
Great Spirit. Susquanannacunahata is a bad man." 

" Let not my father say so," replied Eoneguski ; " our 
people reverence the words of Susquanannacunahata. 
He is a Great Medicine, and will renew strength in 
the limbs of the chief of Eonee. He is a great Prophet, 
and will turn away from him the wrath of the Great 

" When strength wa^ in the bones of Eonah," said 
the chief, " he listened to the words of Susquanannacu- 
nahata, and pretended to believe them ; but he laughed 
at them in his heart, for he knew that Susquanannacu- 
nahata was a villain." 

" And why," said Eoneguski, with a sarcastic bitter- 
ness he could not repress, " should my father listen to 
words he did not believe, and pretend to respect him 
whom he knew to be a villain V- 

" Eoneguski," said the old chief, " listen to your 
father. A few days more and I must follow my ances- 
tors to that country where there is no more age nor 
sickness ; — whose streams are clearer than the drops of 
dew ; — whose fruits are more luscious than the melon 
or peach ; — whose valleys rejoice at the same moment, 
in the sweet roasting-ear and the fully ripe corn ; — and 
over whose hills the uncounted game is forever bound- 
ing. Then must Eoneguski become the chief of the 
Eonee ; — and he must shew himself valiant in fight, and 
wise in council. — Such has been thy father, Eonah. — 
He knew the people of Eonee believed that the Great 
Spirit sometimes spoke to one of his children, and made 
him a Prophet and a Great Medicine. He knew that 


the voice of the Prophet and Medicine was louder in the 
ears of the people than that of their chief.- — What was 
Eonah to do ? — Must he tell the people that the Saga was 
an impostor, and a villian ; and cause himself to be hated 
and despised among them ? — A wiser counsel directed 
the course of thy father ; and by the hands of the Saga 
he turned about the hearts of his people, according to 
his pleasure ; and answers which they foolishly thought 
were sent from Heaven, were dictated by their chief. 
Susquanannacunahata has been to me a spy upon Chu- 
heluh ; and through him have I been able to defeat the 
schemes of that wily Fox. In the meantime Chu- 
heiuh has believed that the Saga was plotting with him 
for the accomplishment of his purposes ; and has been 
looking forward to the moment when success should 
repay him for his many defeats. — But every plan he 
has formed has been communicated to me by the Saga, 
and by his assistance it has been counteracted. — Yet, 
think not it is because the Saga loves Eonah that he 
hath preferred his service to that of Chuheluh. No — 
it is because he knows that I know him ; and he fears 
me. — But Chuheluh, wise as he is, hath superstition, 
like the rest of the Oewoehee ; and although Susqua- 
nannacunahata hath presumed so far upon his credulity 
as to let him see too much, so that he at length begins 
to doubt the inspiration of the Saga, yet he hath not 
altogether burst those cords of superstition his mother 
twined around his heart, in his father's wigwam. — 
But time hath made Susquanannacunahata acquainted 
with the properties of many herbs, and he may allevi- 
ate pangs beyond his art to cure. I have, therefore, 
thought of sending for him — yet it is chiefly for thy 
sake, my son, that I wish him to come — he holds the 
keys of the hearts of the people of Eonee, and he must 
open them to Eoneguski: and the power which the 
father has exercised over the Saga, we must transfer 
to the son." . 

He paused — then suddenly starting, as if some new 
thought had flashed upon his mind — 


""Why," he exclaimed, " Why was Eoneguski so 
long in overtaking the victim of his vengeance? I know- 
that my son is swift in the chase ; and the game escapes 
not upon which he fixes the aim of his rifle. Why was 
the young warrior so long absent?" 

Eoneguski was silent, for he knew that, should he 
tell the whole truth, his answer must fall upon the 
heart of his dying father with a weight sufficient to 
crush it: and, to speak at all, and to speak the truth, 
were, with Eoneguski, one. 

The old chief turned his dim eyes inquisitively on 
his son. 

" Show me," he continued, impatiently, " Show me 
the scalp of John Welch — bring it near, for the eyes of 
Eonah are dim ; and he would look upon the first scalp 
his son has wrenched from the head of a pale face." 

" I have no scalp," said Eoneguski, calmly. 

"Hah!" said the chief: " And what will Eoneguski 
say, when they shall ask him, ' Where is the blood of the 
Leech?'— Jf he shall answer, 'Eoneguski is not a wo- 
man — he hath avenged the blood of the Leech ;' — then 
will they tauntingly ask, 'and where is the scalp of the 
murderer V What will Eoneguski say ? — The red men 
boast not their deeds of valor, unless they can show the 
scalps of their enemies." 

Eoneguski was still silent ; yet it was not on his own 
account he desired to conceal the truth, but feared its 
ejFects upon the prejudiced and proud heart of his 

Eonah again turned his face towards him : — " Will 
not Eoneguski tell me," he resumed " why he hath 
left it in the power of Chuheluh to bring the body of 
John Welch, and deny that your hand is red with his 

"Another time," said Eoneguski, "and the son of 
Eonah will tell his father all that hath passed since he 
left him. When the Saga shall have come, and re- 
stored health to the chief of Eonee, he will be able to 
hear it. — But his strength is not now sufficient." 


" The chief of Eonee will soon be no more," sai^the 
old man, solemnly ; " and it will cheer him on the bed 
of death to listen while his son rehearses his deeds of 
valor. — Let the young warrior begin," he added, im- 
patiently, " for the heart of Eonah longs for the feast of 
vengeance, when he shall hear how the murderer of the 
Leech fell beneath the arm of Eoneguski. — But he is 
sad to learn that the young warrior knows not the use 
of the scalping-knife." 

Finding there was no hope of parrying the subject — 

" John Welch yet lives," said Eoneguski, with that 
dogged composure which always accompanies, in a re- 
solute man, the doing an act whose consequences he 
knows will be deeply painful to himself, but from the 
performance of which there is no escape with honor. 

A yell, such as is uttered by a stricken hound, burst 
from Eonah, and startled even Gideon in the neigh- 
boring wigwam. The old chief writhed in agony, like 
a wounded serpent ; and Eoneguski even feared that it 
was the final struggle between life and death, which 
had been, according to his fears, thus prematurely 
brought on by himself. He hesitated whether or not 
to call for assistance, but deemed it would be unavail- 
ing. He was also restrained by a shame and appre- 
hension which ought only to have accompanied the 
consciousness of guilt, of which he was entirely clear. 

It may be here remarked, that it not unfrequently 
happens that persons are placed in circumstances, where 
a consciousness that there is ground of suspicion against 
them, produces an effect upon their conduct and man- 
ner very similar to that of actual guilt ; and what is 
only their apprehension of what will be the determina- 
tion of other minds as things appear, is mistaken for 
their own conviction of the fact by those who behold 
them. Such was the situation of Eoneguski, who, 
struck with the embarrassment he must experience in 
making any witness of his father's situation, acquainted 
with its immediate cause, was in this way held in inde- 
cision until the violent paroxysm, into which the old 


chief had been thrown, began to subside, and he saw 
that it was not mortal. As soon as he perceived that 
his father was sufficiently recovered to comprehend 
what he should say to him; and aware that any act of 
officiousness on his part, would not be well received 
without the previous approval of the chief, he thus 
addressed him — 

" What can Eoneguski do for his afflicted father — 
shall he send for the Saga, to Sugar Town?" 

" No I" he replied, with astonishing power of voice. 
" Begone, and leave me! — Eonah will perish like the 
decaying oak, which time and the wind have shorn of 
its branches. — The last bough has fallen in dishonor 
from the aged trunk. — Eonah has no son! — and never 
again shall his ear be mocked with the cry of ' Father.' 
— Begone — I say begone and leave me!" 

Eoneguski knelt beside the couch of his father, and 
feelings too powerful for even the stoicism in which he 
had been brought up to control, forced the tears in rapid 
succession down his cheeks, while sobs, frequent and 
violent, heaved his bosom. 

"Is Eonah already dead?" said the almost frantic 
chief, " that no obedience is rendered to his voice. Once 
more I say, begone!" and with an arm so palsied by 
disease that an infant's would have overmatched it in 
force, he dealt his son a blow as he knelt beside him — 
" Coward, I say, begone!" 

Unconsciously the hand of Eoneguski was upon his 

" A blow," he muttered to himself — " A blow;" and 
the scalping-knife was partially withdrawn from the 
belt in which it was suspended ; — " But it is he," he said, 
rising to his feet, "and it is enough." 

He walked moodily out of the hut, and entered that 
of Gideon, where Mercury had already furnished a 
repast, which awaited only his arrival. 

" The Skiagusta requires Mercury in his wigwam," 
said he to that sable attendant, " as soon as he has com- 
pleted his attendance upon Gideon, and spread for him 


his couch. Eoneguski is heavy, and desires not to eat," 
he added, turning to Gideon ; " but Gideon is in the 
house of his father." He threw himself down in the 
corner of the wigwam, but it was not to sleep. 

Here, undisturbed by untimely questions, he cast in 
his mind the distressing embarrassments by which he 
was beset, and deliberated on the part it became him to 
act. He had been treated with an indignity which an 
Indian is not wont to tolerate, even from a father, yet 
he cherished no desire of revenge, and although 
the injured party would gladly have exchanged 
pledges of forgiveness. But he knew it was vain, in 
the present mental condition of the chief, to hope, by 
any advances or explanations, to appease his anger, or 
sooth his offended pride. He would have consulted the 
Saga, in his anxiety to act for the best, but the confi- 
dence he once reposed in his counsels was destroy- 
ed — for Eonah had denounced him as a villain. In 
the course of his reflections, " Absence," thought he, 
" may re-awaken the yearnings of paternal love, which 
indignation will continue to stifle while kept alive by 
my presence. But whither shall I go?" he said, in 
bitterness of soul. " Where shall the son seek for shel- 
ter, against whom his father hath closed his door in 
displeasure? — I w T ill go to Tesumtoe," he said, at 
length, "the heart of the Little Deer will be open to 
Eoneguski. — Her smiles will come upon him like the 
warm sun upon one perishing with cold. Fie will tell 
her the story of his griefs, and she will bid sorrow fly 
away, and say that the smiles of the Great Spirit are on 
the actions of Eoneguski." 

These last reflections had so happy and soothing an 
effect upon the troubled spirits of the Indian, that he 
fell into a quiet slumber, visited by dreams of peace and 

In the meantime, Gideon, rather disappointed in 
the manner of his reception at Eonee, having, du- 
ring Eoneguski's absence, gathered, from the com- 
munication of Mercury, much useful information re- 


specting Indian habits, and the advantageous nature 
of the alliance which Eoneguski was about to form 
with the Little Deer ; with many other matters which, 
with the gossipping disposition of a negro, Mercury 
thought proper to intrust him with, was well prepared, 
by appetite, to profit by the intimation his host gave him 
to proceed with his supper. Having despatched it, 
nothing was left for him but to throw himself upon his 
couch, and ruminate upon all he had seen and heard. 
He was annoyed by the apparent depression of Eone- 
guski's spirits, at which he was not, however, much 
surprised, naturally enough ascribing it to the severe ill- 
ness of his father. Sleep soon put an end to Gideon's 
speculations upon the affairs of real life, and sent him to 
chase in dreams the shadows of fancy. 

The next morning Eoneguski inquired of Mercury 
into the condition of his father, and, learning that he 
was peevish and irritable, determined to put in execu- 
tion tne plan conceived by him on the preceding night. 
As soon, therefore, as they had finished their morning 
meal, "Gideon," said he, "has seen that the chief of 
Eonee is not in a condition to treat the son of his friend 
as becomes him ; in a few days he will be better, and 
will desire to see Gideon, and talk with him. You will 
not wonder that it is the purpose of Eoneguski to visit 
the Little Deer at Tesumtoe. Gideon will go with 
him, for the Little Deer will be glad when she sees the 
friend of Eoneguski." 

Having charged Mercury to be diligent in his atten- 
tion to the old chief during his absence, Eoneguski set 
out with his white companion for Tesumtoe. On their 
way they passed by Sugar Town, and Eoneguski's 
solicitude for his father prompted him to call upon the 
Saga and request that he would visit him, charging 
him, at the same time, (lest he might, on that account, 
reject his medical assistance,) not to let Eonah know 
that he owed to himself the visit of the Saga. 

They found the Saga neither in dishabille, as did 
Chuheluh, nor yet in all the imposing apparel of 


savage conjuration, in which he wrought so power- 
fully upon the mind of John Welch. Although Wissa 
admitted them with some caution, yet he did not, as 
usual, close the door upon the first visiter, but seemed 
quite delighted to see Eoneguski, and, (could he have 
as well understood them,) as solicitous to obey his be- 
hests, as those of his master. But before Eoneguski 
was allowed to communicate his wishes to the Saga, 
Gideon was forced to retire. The latter was a good 
deal impressed with the appearance of the Saga, and 
lost no time, after Eoneguski rejoined him, in inquir- 
ing into his name and character, of which he had not 
before heard any thing. The Indian had no difficulty 
in communicating what was publicly known of the 
Saga, (being, indeed, the extent of his own knowledge, 
except the few slight hints so recently received from 
Eonah:) but that was not enough to satisfy the curi- 
osity of Gideon. — -Speculations on the character and 
appearance of this mysterious personage served to 
amuse him occasionally during the remainder of their 
progress towards Tesumtoe, the way to which he ne- 
vertheless found somewhat tedious. 

22 E0NEGU9KI. 


Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, 
And men below, and saints above ; 
For love is Heav'n and Heav'n is love. 


The empire of this gentle passion, which the poet 
describes as so universal, includes even the untaught 
child of the forest, who doubtless experiences, in his 
simple wooings all those pleasing agitations of the ima- 
gination which impart to love half its zest in the most 
civilized condition of life. He is as sensible to the chil- 
ling influence of a frown, and the genial effect of a 
smile, from the chosen of his heart, as his white breth- 
ren. He feels as keenly apprehensions for her safe- 
ty and her constancy, and sympathizes as deeply in all 
that concerns her. He is as severely tormented with 
fears that his conduct or motives may be misunderstood, 
and pants as ardently for her approbation. 

Such at least was the experience of the noble savage, 
of whom we have had so much occasion to speak. As 
he approached Tesumtoe indescribable emotion caused 
his heart now to rise buoyantly in his bosom, like a 
joyful bark, freighted with objects of delight upon the 
gentle waves of a summer sea, and then to sink sad- 
ly down with the weight of gloomy thoughts which 
poured into his soul, like the same vessel, when, through 
some unlucky opening, the treacherous waters flow in 
and swamp her. Now would hope whisper to him 
words of comfort, and then would doubt chill him with 
suggestions of fearful import. He had not been un- 
conscious from the first that the presence of Gideon 
must embarrass both himself and the Little Deer, and 
impart to their interview a coldness by no means agree- 

E0NEGU8KI. 23 

able. But he comforted himself in the conscious fulfil- 
ment of duty for the sacrifice he was making, convin- 
ced that it could not have been pleasant to Gideon to 
have remained at Eonee under existing circumstances. 

It was evening when they reached Tesumtoe, a vil- 
lage near the head of one of the forks of the Tennessee 
River, along which their journey for the most part lay, 
as it meandered through a long narrow valley, from 
which the hills gradually sloped upon each side, ter- 
minating in numerous peaks or spurs of various heights 
and dimensions. 

Their course from Eonee had been directly south — 
the mildness of the climate had increased in their pro- 
gress in a ratio truly astonishing — and the full moon of 
a delightful spring evening was pouring down upon 
them a flood of light as they entered the village, where 
all was quiet. So still and calm did every thing appear, 
that any one, whose imagination suitable reading had 
supplied with the thought, would have been struck with 
a feeling similar to that of the great poet, whose name 
is prefixed to this chapter, when looking upon the ruins 
of Pompeii, he exclaimed, " The city of the dead, the 
city of the dead." But to Gideon it suggested the re- 
collection of some of those ambuscades he had heard 
of Indians laying for an unwary foe, where a quiet, 
even deeper than peace herself is wont to know, is 
broken in the twinkling of an eye, by noise and uproar 
the loudest, the wildest, the most continued and appal- 
ling, ever uttered by the grating voice of war. 

Impressed w r ith this thought he moved accordingly, 
and, as he followed his guide, w r as ready at the slight- 
est noise, for flight, or to assume the attitude of de- 
fence, as circumstances might dictate. They had not 
proceeded far, however, when, from the wigwams, as 
they passed, the men came out to look upon them, while 
the women and children might be seen slyly peeping 
from the doors and loop holes, which answered the pur- 
poses of windows, as well as the smaller crevices of the 


On they moved through this city of automata, where 
not even a laugh, whispered remark, or word of salu- 
tation, reached their ears as they proceeded. The 
noiseless tread of his guide was answered by no echo, 
but Gideon distinctly heard his own heavy step rever- 
berated here and there, unmingled with any sound save 
the maundering of the Tennessee River, as it flowed 
past the foot of the acclivity, and the voices of the We- 
kolis\ which, in considerable numbers, poured forth 
their wild plaintive cry from the lofty tree tops inter- 
spersed through the village. 

They approached, at length, a building of far better 
appearance than any Gideon had seen since he entered 
the Indian country, which indeed, exceeded, both in looks 
and comfort, those of the ordinary white settlers. It 
was not situated on the street, like the other huts in the 
village, but had, in front of it, a neat yard, paled in with 
pieces of riven timber, about the height, breadth, and 
thickness of ordinary paling. But they w^ere perfectly 
rough, and no nails entered into the construction of 
this fence, the paling being secured in their places, by 
crossing and interlacing, with three rails, which ran 
along horizontally, one above another, about two feet 
apart, each end being inserted in the side of a post. — 
These posts being set in the ground, at intervals of eight 
or ten feet successively, and having rails inserted in 
their sides, as before mentioned, into which, in their 
turns, the palings were wrought, formed a continued 
fence, considered in rude life both neat and substantial. 

As Eoneguski opened the gate of this enclosure, a 
large shaggy wolf dog rose from his lair, and shaking 
himself so that his ears napped against the sides of his 
head, began to bay fiercely. " True-nose," said Eone- 
guski, "poor fellow;" the dog ceased barking, and 
wagging his tail, and showing his long white teeth, 
as much as to say, " see what I could have done to 
an enemy," came up to the Indian and laid his nose 
in his hand, but, seeing Gideon, withdrew it again, and 
began to growl surlily. " Be quiet, True-nose," said 


Eoneguski, and the growling ceased ; but the dog stood 
still, wagging his tail, and looking steadfastly upon the 
stranger, as if studying his physiognomy, and saying, 
at the same time, "pray, who are you?" 

" If you love me, love my dog," is a homely adage, 
in which, with great simplicity, expression is given to 
what all have felt. But EonegUski was in his own 
mind, on the present occasion, inclined to carry it some- 
what further, and infer from the affection of the quad- 
ruped the unchanged attachment of the family to which 
he belonged. True-nose, however, on his part, got the 
full benefit of the adage, for the Indian thrust his hand 
into his knapsack, and drawing out the remnants of his 
travelling provisions, threw them down to the huge 
black animal, and patted him affectionately. 

By this time a black servant girl had opened the 
door of the dwelling, and stood examining the strangers 
by the clear moon-light. "True-nose knows one of 
them," she exclaimed, in the Indian tongue, and quickly 
herself recognized in the darker of the two strangers 
an old acquaintance. 

A considerable stir was now heard in the interior 
of the dwelling, such as those who have come unex- 
pected visiters to a house in more polished society, 
where young ladies happen to dwell, are no strangers. 
Meantime the visiters entered, and were shown into an 
apartment of considerable comfort, and somewhat ele- 
gantly furnished. In the hearth burnt a fire evidently 
intended rather for light than warmth. A solitary indi- 
vidual sat within the apartment, whom Eoneguski 
approached as one from whom he expected a kind 
reception. It was a female, dressed in a style of neat- 
ness approaching to elegance, far surpassing any 
thing that Gideon had ever before witnessed. More 
than sixty winters seemed to have sprinkled their 
snows upon hair originally jet black, but now rivalling 
in whiteness the cap, well suited to her age, from be- 
neath which a lock here and there strayed down, like 
skeins of silver thread, over a brow whose complexion, 

VOL. II. 3. 


together with that of the other exposed parts of her 
person, proclaimed in a silent, but convincing language, 
that she was a Cherokee half-breed. But age had not 
bent her frame, nor extinguished the fire of a bright 
black eye, which turned not on Eoneguski as he ap- 
proached, but rested wildly on Gideon, with a troubled 
yet inquisitive glance. She spoke not — and as her 
countenance, on which the vestiges of beauty linger- 
ed, changed distinctly but rapidly, seen as it was in the 
evening of life, it might remind one of an interesting 
ruin upon which the moon-beam now rests brightly, 
and now is thrown into partial and then into complete 
shadow, by the cloudy rack passing over the disk of 
that planet, urged onward by the wind. The unplea- 
sant suspicion flashed upon the mind of Gideon, that 
Insanity was hanging out the ensigns of her tyranny 
over the ruined empire of Reason. This impression 
gathered strength when he observed that the female 
frequently carried her hands across her forehead, bosom, 
and other parts of her person, forming thereby imagi- 
nary lines in a horizontal direction, which she imme- 
diately crossed at right angles by others made perpen- 
dicularly. At length her eyes became immoveably 
fixed upon Gideon, with pupils widely dilated, while 
she herself assumed a position not unlike that of a cat 
about to spring upon its prey. Nothing was left to 
Gideon and Eoneguski but to gaze upon her in mute 
astonishment. Whilst doing so, Gideon perceived a 
large strain of beads suspended upon her neck of diffe- 
rent sizes, those of equal ones occurring at regular in- 
tervals. The beads were formed of some red substance 
with which Gideon was unacquainted, and to them was 
appended a black cross, of the material of which he 
was also ignorant, although he had no difficulty in 
determining that the ring by which it was suspended, 
as well as the four tips of the cross, were of pure 
gold. Gideon became convinced by her manner that 
she had taken him for a person she knew ; an im- 
pression attributed by him to some vagary of a disor- 


dered intellect. In a short time, however, she appear- 
ed herself convinced that she was in error. Her eye 
glided off from Gideon with an air of disappointment, 
and she gradually assumed a more natural look and 
manner. Eoneguski seemed to think that now was his 
time for addressing her, and made another effort to ap- 
proach. But so far from meeting his advances, she 
turned away her head, and stretched forth her hands, 
as if to signify " Stand off." 

The Indian was confounded. " I must be bewitched ;" 
he exclaimed internally; "some evil eye has fallen on 
Eoneguski that he should be strange to every one ; his 
actions are misconstrued, and his friends look coldly 
upon him. — But where is the Little Deer?" he con- 
tinued, still holding communion with his own thoughts, 
" Will she too turn away her head from her young 
warrior? " 

A light step was now heard in an adjoining apart- 
ment. Eoneguski glided out of the room, and soon 
Gideon perceived, at no great distance, low murmuring 
voices, like the sound of many bees gathering their 
luscious stores from a parterre of flowers. As for him- 
self, he was alone with the incomprehensible being 
who had not opened her lips in speech since his arri- 
val, and whose presence had inspired him with no very 
agreeable feelings, and little was left to him but to con- 
template her more particularly. Her countenance had 
gradually become more composed ; the wild fire of her 
eye had abated, and, as Gideon looked and looked 
again, he discovered attractions where there had been 
nothing before but painful repulsion. The traces of 
beauty became more conspicuous, and many virtuous feel- 
ings shone dimly through the haze of melancholy that 
had now settled down and shaded her countenance. 

At length, in a sweet musical voice, the tones of which 
thrilled through his heart, she broke in upon the silence. 
t* Stranger," she said, " you are welcome to the wig- 
wam of Yenacona. — It is long — very long since Yen- 
acona has looked upon a complexion such as thine — 


hut pale faces are glancing, and' fair locks are waving in 
the visions of past days which crowd upon, her soul.— 
White hands rocked the cradle of her infancy, and; fair 
tresses were twined around , her infant ringers, as she 
drew nurture from a mother's bosom.— Those lessons 
which breathed from a mother's; lips, ^and coming fresh 
and war-m upon (the heart of childhood, .find there a 
home as eternal as memory: itself, are associated in the 
mind of Yenacona, with a being, of thy race. as gentle^s 
the do ve— beautiful as the firmament— 7 and pure as the 
lig'ht ;— ra being such, as our -fancy paints the angels.— 
But there is a love, whose j warmth, i compared to i that 
for, a mother, , is -as the scorching plain of Summer to 
the mild sunny valley of the Spring-^tand -with such a 
love flowed- the young heart of Yenacona: towards one 
whose manly; hrow, was pale^as thine, and. around which 
clustered the brown locks of Europe. But it is paste — 
Wonder/not, then, stranger, [if \ the sight of thee should 
stir -in its very depths the heart of Yenacona;— if sit 
should: recall. to her presence. the departed and : the dead, 
and thicken the shadows; of grief that daily rest upon 
her soul.— ^But I have said you are welcome— language 
cannot speak > how welcome — for what to the mourner 
affords such delight as stirring anew the ashes of 
her grief ?— But," she added, | in a low, guttural voice, 
pointing to wards. the, adjoining apartment, from whence 
the murmuring sounds still proceeded, while a .fearful 
change .came over her .countenance, "he is not wel- 
come. [He has .made the widow childless — he has 
created for her new sorrows, ; and not merely stirred 
the old.— If a Christian might hate and curse one who 
has wronged her, on ; my tknees would I beseech the 
Virgin and the -Saints, and even the everlasting Father 
himself, •for ! curses onithe ; head of yon bloody savage." 
Unconsciously suiting the action to .the word, she 
had i risen from her chair, and with eyes uplifted to 
Heaven, hadclasped together, her dark meagre hands, 
and bent ( one of her knees as iin the act of | throwing 
herself into tthe posture of supplication. But suddenly 


recovering herself, and raising- her crucifix to her lips, 
" Dear Saviour," she continued, " who, in thy human 
agony, didst in the garden of Gethsemane sweat drops 
of blood — pardon the frailty of a poor child of earth, and 
impute not to her as guilt the involuntary outpourings 
of human passion : — and for him — enable me to say — 
1 Father forgive the poor misguided savage — for he 
knew not what he did.' " 

Just at this moment Eoneguski returned to the apart- 
ment, and Yenacona meeting him, said, with a faint 
smile, " Eoneguski forgive the rudeness of your first 
reception; but you will not wonder when you know 
that new sorrows have visited the heart of Yenacona, 
already crushed with its ancient burden — and yet I will 
not deceive you — Eoneguski is not forbid the wigwam 
of Yenacona — but he cannot be welcomed there as in 
times that are past." 

" It is enough," said the Indian, " there is One," point- 
ing solemnly upward, " who knows the heart of Eone- 
guski, and He will one day speak, and say that it is right 
towards Yenacona. But a dark cloud now rests upon 
the path of Eoneguski, and his friends cannot see him 
as he is. But the Great Spirit will send his sun to 
chase away the cloud, and their faces will again look 
kindly upon him. Yenacona has said that he is not 
driven from her dwelling ; — but the heart of Eoneguski 
is proud — and would swell too large for the home of 
Yenacona — but the Little Deer is here — and the heart 
of Eoneguski grows small when he thinks of the Little 
Deer — and he will not turn his back upon Yenacona." 

A light irresolute step was again heard approach- 
ing the door, and, pale as an Indian girl could be, the 
Little Deer entered. Her eyes were red with weeping, 
and an un wiped tear rested unconsciously on her cheek. 
Suffice it to say, she was the beau ideal of Indian beau- 
ty, and, although in evident sorrow, her step was as 
elastic as the animal whose name she bore. Her dress, 
allowing for their difference of age, was a good deal 
in the style of that of Yenacona, that is, upon the Eu 



ropean model, in which neatness was carried by taste 
to the very verge of elegance. She had about her no 
Catholic ornaments, such as were worn by Yenacona, 
but a gold chain was suspended upon her neck and bo- 
som ; large earrings hung down, almost resting upon 
her shoulders ; and a pair of wide rich armlets orna- 
mented her wrists, as if to call away the attention from 
the round polished, well turned, arms immediately 
above them. 

Cupid, a little heated with the scene in the adjoin- 
ing apartment, was bathing himself in the tear-drop 
on the cheek of the Little Deer just as she entered, 
and, startled at the sight of Gideon, at whom he was 
provoked for thus taking him by siirprise, he hastily 
caught one of the arrows from the quiver he had 
committed to the keeping of the Little Deer, and let 
drive at the luckless youth with his whole force. — 
Gideon had only time to perceive his danger, as he felt 
the keen polished shaft mercilessly cleaving its rapid 
way among his heart-strings to the very centre of life, 
and electrifying his whole system with a fire which ran 
tingling and tittillating through every fibre. It blazed 
out at his cheeks in glowing flame, and he panted for 
relief from its scorching heat. But his fate was sealed — 
the Promethean fire had seized upon his vitals, and 
there was no escape from its consuming power. 

Meantime the Little Deer continued to advance, and 
seated herself by the side of Yenacona. There was 
some little embarrassment among all the parties. — 
Eoneguski, like a true Indian, had thought nothing of 
the ceremonial of introductions, but the other three at 
once perceived that in each other, which seemed to say, 
" amongst us there must be something beyond the rough 
intercourse of savages. " Yenacona was the first to 
manifest the presence of mind required on the occasion. 
" You have not favored us with the name of our new 
guest, Eoneguski," she said, addressing him. 

"He is the son of a friend of the chief of Eonee," 
replied the Indian, a little disconcerted at perceiving 


that he had neglected what would have been proper on 
the occasion, " and is called Gideon Aymor." 

The color forsook the cheeks of Yenacona, and she 
was apparently ready to sink down with some power- 
ful emotion ; but resisting her feelings, whatever they 
might have been, with much effort, "Mr. Aymor," 
she said, in her peculiarly sweet voice, and with a me- 
lancholy smile, " I have already told you that you are 
welcome to my dwelling, and informed you of my name. 
This maiden is my niece, who, after the custom of her 
people, is called — the Little Deer." 

Gideon endeavored to act well his part in his very 
novel situation, and strove for his best bow. Never 
before had he felt more desirous to please, and never 
before had he been so fully convinced that he was a 
bumpkin. But Love has some generosity in his tyran- 
ny, and while he plays his subjects many distressing 
pranks, not unfrequently supplies them with an in- 
spiration more rich and genuine than that borrowed 
from Castalia, and better qualifying them to show to 
advantage. The imagination of Gideon was very high- 
ly excited by the circumstances under which he was 
placed, and he seemed to himself in a region of en- 
chantment. His opinion that Yenacona was insane 
and disagreeable, had given way to an impression that 
she was highly gifted, both in mind and body, and a 
being, in all respects, invested with most attractive in- 

" Lady," said he, in reply to her introduction of 
the Little Deer, " when I left the land of the whites, 
I foolishly believed I was leaving all that could please 
the eye, or interest the feelings, and deemed not that I 
was coming to bask in the light of beauty," — (bow- 
ing to the Little Deer,) "or to drink wisdom from a 
deeper fountain," (making a similar obeisance to Yena- 
cona,) " than it ever was my lot to encounter in my own 

He would have said more, but conscience told him 
that he was plotting treason against his friend Eone- 


guski, and, like other traitors, he was apprehensive of 

A repast, more sumptuous than any of which Gideon 
had ever before partaken, was spread for the guests, 
and even wines of the "sunny France" were not want- 
ing to cheer their hearts. The guests did not stint their 
cheer, and even Eoneguski's multiplied vexations be- 
came like dark specks in the distant horizon, while a 
landscape of exquisite beauty, over which moved every 
object that could delight his soul, lay immediately 
before him. With hearts swimming in ecstasy, they 
both retired to repose, and Gideon dreamed of chasing 
the Little Deer through the valleys of desire, and over 
the hills of doubt, and across the plains of hope, with 
eager haste, but tedious duration. 

The next morning came, and Eoneguski, compelled 
by a sense of duty, set out on his return to Eonee, to 
see how matters stood with his dying father ; but there 
was no necessity for the return of Gideon, and Eone- 
guski did not regret when he heard Gideon accept the 
invitation of Yenacona to remain some days longer 
with her. He thought that, under existing circum- 
stances, a friend at court might not be inconvenient, and 
especially as the illness of Eonah might render Gideon's 
situation unpleasant at Eonee, and would probably pre- 
vent his own speedy return to Tesumtoe. 



Not in those climes where 1 have late been straying — 
Not in those visions to the heart displaying 
Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd, 
Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd. 

' Byron. 

A thief, from some • place of concealment,' beholds 
an unconscious miser burying, in a secret corner of the 
earth, his cherished treasure, which; a life of toil and 
successful industry have been spent in accumulating. 
Having made the deposite, the unsuspecting wretch turns 
to .depart, and the heart of the thief leaps with joy and 
anxiety to seize the precious '• hoard, as he beholds the 
last wave of the garments of the departing owner. 

Such were the feelings of Gideon, when he caught the 
last glimpse of Eoneguski's receding form, and he was 
left alone with the Little Deer, i On downy pinions the 
hours flew past him, while opportunities numberless 
presented themselves of seeing and conversing with her, 
and even the broad wings of time brushed him not in 
his transit. While thus situated, there was, with him, 
no computation of hours, and the game, which had been 
one of his inducements for coming to* the Indian coun- 
try, was entirely forgotten. He seldom saw the me- 
lancholy of Yenacona interrupted by a smile, but fre- 
quently, when he happened to be alone with her, she 
seemed about to speak, and then, as if checking her- 
self, would suddenly resume her book or needle, with 
both of which she was quite familiar. Nor had her 
niece failed so to share the benefit of her: aunt's. skill in 
these important matters, as to become likewise consider- 
ably proficient. 

Gideon had been some time at Tesumtoe, when one 
day in a stroll around the village, he was led in his 


wandering towards the banks of the Tennessee. Spring 
had now fairly opened, and the bushes on the margin 
of the stream had all put forth their emerald gems, and 
the larger trees were fast following their example. 
Casting his eye along the river, he was not a little sur- 
prised at observing about equi-distant from each other, 
as far as the eye could reach, slender smoke-wreaths 
curling up towards heaven, and forming at last a con- 
tinuous cloud, hanging lazily over the middle of the 
stream, like a canopy. 

" What can this mean," thought he, and drew near 
for the purpose of satisfying his curiosity. But it was 
still more excited when he perceived that the columns 
of smoke were sent up by as many small fires, over each 
of which some vessel, used for culinary purposes, was 
simmering or blubbering away, according to their res- 
pective fortune. But if it was still more excited by these 
things, it was in no degree lessened, when opposite to each 
of these little cauldrons a promiscuous group of men and 
women was splashing and sporting about in the river 
like so many "geese at play." Presently they came 
out to the miniature cauldrons, and with sticks dipped 
up from them some boiling herbs, with which, after 
suffering them to cool for a moment, they rubbed ra- 
pidly their feet and legs, and, running to the river again, 
plunged in. This process being repeated several times, 
they put on their garments, and having extinguished 
their fires, bore off the vessels they had been using to 
their respective cabins. 

Gideon in vain inquired of one or two Indians the 
meaning of what he had witnessed. All he could get 
out of them, was, that it was an ancient custom, but 
what it meant, or whether it was practised for health or 
religion, they could not, or would not inform him. 

" If Eoneguski were here," thought he to himself, 
"he would explain it to me." But Eoneguski was 
not there, and his next thought was, "Perhaps I can 
learn it from the Little Deer." 

He returned to the dwelling of Yenacona, and would 


probably have thought no more about the matter, but 
while at dinner it accidentally occurred to him, and he 
mentioned what he had seen, and inquired into the 
meaning of it. 

" It is one of the superstitious rites of the poor 
deluded Cherokees," said Yenacona, crossing herself, 
" and I doubt whether they themselves know what it 

" Do all the Cherokees practise it ?" said Gideon, 
casting at the same time an expressive glance across 
the table at the Little Deer. 

" All, I believe," replied Yenacona, " who have not 
forsaken the idolatry of their people, and become fol- 
lowers of the Cross; — all I mean who have not become 

" Is the Little Deer a Christian ?" inquired Gideon, 

Yenacona looked at her niece — their eyes met — and 
the clear red skin of the Little Deer was suffused with 
a blush, which occupied her whole face, neck and 

" I trust I am a Christian," said she, timidly and 

" If she is not now a Christian, I hope soon to see 
her so," said Yenacona. "But she has not yet dis- 
carded the superstitions of her fathers, and, among 
others, observes the Spring bath of cold water and bitter 

" And was the Little Deer," inquired Gideon, with 
some warmth, " among the damsels who this day bared 
themselves in the broad light of Heaven, and shame- 
lessly flounced about in the Tennessee River ?" 

The Little Deer blushed again, and there was an 
expression of anger as well as of shame in her coun- 
tenance, but she answered softly, " It is the custom of 
my people." 

Gideon was silent. His faith to Eoneguski was 
stealing in to occupy the place of love to the Little 
Deer, which the effusion of cold Tennessee water had 


partially expelled. "What!" said he internally, "marry 
a woman over whose person the wanton air has liberty 
to breathe once a year 5 aye, and 'unscreened too from, 
the most licentious eye !" 

How much further he may have pursued his reflec- 
tions is uncertain, but he was here interrupted by the 
fascinating tones of Yenacona's voice. 

" Yes!" said she, " the Little Deer considers herself 
the betrothed bride of an Indian chief, and he would 
not consent that his wife should throw off the customs 
of his people." 

" The Little Deer will never be a bride," replied a 
low tremulous voice, almost choked with emotion. 

A speedy change came over the feelings of Gideon. 
The simplicity of innocence, that master charm in 
woman, was so evident in all that was said or done 
by the Little Deer, and was so striking in the tone 
and matter of her last remark, that she was restored 
to his imagination in. all her original purity, and had 
his knowledge of scripture supplied him with it, he 
would have been struck with the force of the expres- 
sion as applicable to her, " To the pure, all things are 
pure ;" and he felt that she was no more contaminated 
by her late exposure, than the infant in whose existence 
days only could be numbered. Her plaintive voice 
made an undesigned appeal to his heart, which was 
irresistible, and she was reinstated in its full posses- 

"But can it be," thought he, " that her purpose of 
marrying Eoneguski is already unsettled? What can 
be the cause ? Is it possible that my good fortune is 
such, that a kind feeling for me has already shaken the 
firm hold my Indian friend once held upon her affec- 

He determined to probe the matter deeper. " It will 
make at least one heart miserable should the Little 
Deer keep that determination," said he, with an affec- 
tation of gaiety. 

" I do not doubt it" said the Little Deer sighing. 


" But it is the will of Heaven that my words should 
come to pass." 

11 1 trust there is some mistake in that," said Gideon. 

" It is kind in you to wish it so," she replied, " but 
you will wish in vain." 

" That must depend upon yourself," said he. 

" Not so," she replied, " for neither our wishes nor 
our actions are always under our control." 

"If the Little Deer does not marry," said he, "it 
must be because she does not wish it, for she may choose 
for herself a mate among the best and the proudest." 

The Little Deer blushed again, but not so deeply as 
before ; — it was just perceptible. 

" I know," said she, " that what you have told me is 
not true, and yet I am not offended with you. Is it not 
strange, that a known attempt to deceive us should 
afford us pleasure ?" 

" How have I attempted to deceive you?" 

" Did you not say, I might choose for myself a mate 
among the best and the proudest ? — In one sense, I feel 
that it is true, but not as you meant I should under- 
stand you. But as I said before, I am not angry, and 
am even grateful for your attempted deception." 

" The white men," said Yenacona, with a smile ap- 
proaching more nearly one of pleasure than Gideon 
had ever before seen playing upon her lips, " are skilled 
in the art of flattery, as it is called, and the Little Deer 
has confessed the truth: — It is music to a woman's ear. — 
Our mother Eve heard it in Eden, and what nothing 
else could have done — it won her to sin, and forfeit 
Paradise. — Let the Little Deer take heed." 

" Gideon Aymor is not skilled in the art of flattery," 
said he, " and speaks only to the Little Deer what he 
believes in his heart." 

" Ah ! Mr. Aymor, although you here see Yenacona 
in a wilderness, she is no stranger to the deference 
paid to woman by all classes of the white men, and 
hence the women of the red race always lend to them 
a more willing ear than to the men of their own tribes. 

VOL. II. — 4. 


By the one they are addressed in language approach- 
ing idolatry — by the other with professions of proud 

" By Heaven," thought Gideon to himself, " she is 
teaching me how to woo her niece, and supplant Eone- 
guski." " None of my race," he said in reply, " has 
ever been more subdued by the charms of woman, than 
is Gideon Aymor by those of the Little Deer." 

" Come," said the Little Deer, " if I were foolish 
enough to believe you in earnest, I should have reason 
to be angry. Mr. Aymor came here as the friend of 
Eoneguski to visit" she hesitated, and became em- 

" There is nothing which Gideon Aymor would not 
do rather than incur the displeasure of the Little Deer." 

" The Little Deer is not easily offended with her 
friends, when no offence is intended," she replied. 

Dinner being ended, the maiden arose from the table, 
and retired to her own apartment, leaving Gideon alone 
with Yenacona. 

There was a thoughtful silence of some minutes, — 

" Mr. Aymor will pardon me," at length said the lat- 
ter, " for asking how I am to understand what has just 
passed in my presence ? Is it his purpose seriously to 
assail the heart of the Little Deer 1 or are his expres- 
sions to be understood as the unmeaning gallantry of a 
passing hour? Mr. Aymor will remember that the 
Little Deer is my niece — nay, (let me utter the afflictive 
truth,) — the only being who owns one drop of kindred 
blood, or can claim any peculiar interest in the heart of 
Yenacona. Excuse me for saying you are beneath the 
shelter of my roof, a welcome participant of its poor 
hospitality. I have said, I am no stranger to the effect 
upon the heart of a simple Indian girl, when her ears 
drink in the strange but delicious music of delicate flat- 
tery, which the men of your race know so well how to 
pour forth as a lovely song. If then you would not 
desire to win the heart of the Little Deer, cease to drop 
upon her ear the poison of flattery ; for why should the 


guest of Yenacona make her niece unhappy? — Tell 
me then in truth, does the white man wish to win the 
heart of the poor Indian maiden ?" 

Gideon was not a little surprised at being so abruptly- 
interrogated upon a subject which, even in the rude 
simplicity of the society in which he had been brought up, 
it would have been thought indelicate in the relation of 
a young woman to be the first to break to one who 
might be her suitor. Yet he could not but acquiesce in 
the propriety of Yenacona's question, under the circum- 
stances, dictated as it appeared to be, by a proper regard 
for the honor and happiness of her niece — but the 
answer was to him a matter somewhat perplexing. — 
It was true, he felt for the Little Deer something of 
passion, and was fully aware of her advantageous pros- 
pects, to say nothing of her immediate possessions — but 
he was not altogether prepared to take an Indian squaw 
as his wife — nor had he made up his mind to the villany 
of winning her heart to abuse the possession ; — neither 
had he so far overcome the claims of gratitude and 
friendship to Eoneguski, as to betray his confidence and 
avow himself his rival; — and as he had not time for much 
deliberation, each consideration contributed to the forma- 
tion of the very hasty answer he gave. 

" The Little Deer is lovely," he said, " and Gideon 
Aymor cannot look upon her without feeling the power 
of her beauty. But is she not the betrothed of Eone- 
guski ? and is not her heart already too much his to be 
won by another ?" 

" It is true," replied Yenacona, " that she hath promi- 
sed herself in marriage to Eoneguski; but she was then 
a heathen like himself; since that time the glorious light 
of the gospel hath sent a few scattered rays across the 
dark soul of the Little Deer, as the luminary of Heaven 
pours here and there a slender stream of light into the 
thick darkness of a dungeon through some occasional 
chink, found only by his searching power. And is 
there any fellowship between light and darkness? and 
can one who hath caught but the faintest glimpse of 


'that light which comethdown from above,' voluntarily 
shut her eyes upon it forever, and again plunge into the 
unmitigated gloom of heathen superstition ? Mr. Ay- 
mor, my own sad experience supplies me with a melan- 
choly warning against an alliance between a Christian 
and a Heathen. The Little Deer hath been already in- 
structed that there is no obligation to keep faith with 
heretics, and that it would be a damning sin to do so in 
a compact to be consummated with sacramental solem- 
nity. But there is a still greater difficulty. — The Lit- 
tle Deer can never be the wife of Eoneguski, and she 
knows it. What does Mr. Aymor say? Does he desire 
to possess the heart of the Little Deer ?" 

" Might I do so if I would he said. 

" I have told you," replied Yenacona, "of the power 
of a weapon which I have seen you use so dexterously — 
farther than this I can say nothing of your prospects." 

" But would the voice of Yenacona be employed for 
or against my suit?" 

" That is what I desire to know," said Yenacona^ 
" from Mr. Aymor, himself, and therefore it is that I 
wish you to answer my questions." 

u Then I will confess that I desire to win the heart 
of the Little Deer," said Gideon, having gradually ad- 
vanced to self-committal. 

" Swear to me then," she said, solemnly, assuming a 
countenance of dignified severity — " Swear to me upon 
this sacred symbol of the sufferings of our crucified 
Lord, that when you have won the heart of the Little 
Deer you will wear it near your own, as I have done 
for years past this holy crucifix," she said, applying to 
her lips that which she wore appended to the rosary 
around her neck, " until death shall dismiss one of you 
to Paradise." 

She extended towards him the cross, but Gideon, 
instead of complying with her demand, drew back with 

" Do you hestitate?" — said she; and, after a pause, 
added, " It is the only condition upon which Yenacona 


can consent to your becoming a suitor to her niece. 
Nay, more, after what has passed, it is the only condition 
upon which you can longer remain a tenant of the wig- 
wam of Yenacona." 

Gideon was perplexed, and, after some moments re- 
flection, " I am ready to comply," he said, and reached 
out his hand towards the crucifix. 

" Hold !" — cried Yenacona, in a tone of voice which 
sent a chill through his blood, and caused his fell of 
hair to rise like quills upon the fretful porcupine — " here 
is no priest as Heaven's vicegerent to receive the vow — 
here is no sacred cathedral, with its dark, heavy arches, 
to whisper back their solemn utterance — but hark!---- 
dost thou not hear?" 

So deeply interested had Gideon been in the conver- 
sation, both at dinner and afterwards, that those indica- 
tions so perceptible to all who know any thing of the 
country of which we are writing, that mark the near 
approach of a spring or summer thunder storm, had 
entirely escaped his attention. But when Yenacona 
directed his ear towards it, he distinctly heard a loud 
rushing sound, (to borrow a simile from the scriptures,) 
" like the voice of many waters." He saw that the 
trees upon the mountain top over against them were 
powerfully agitated, and veiled their heavy summits be- 
fore some great power passing over them. 

" The Lord bowed the Heavens, and came down," — 
she said, in a loud, solemn tone of voice, pointing up- 
wards with her right hand, while she stood in tragic 
dignity, with a countenance in which the deepest reli- 
gious awe was mingled with sacerdotal severity, — f* the 
earth shook and trembled, the foundations of the hills 
also moved and were shaken. — He rode upon a cherub, 
and did fly ; — yea, He did fly upon the wings of the 
wind. — -His pavilion round about him were dark waters 
and thick clouds of the sky." 

She paused 1 A dark shadow was seen career- 
ing onwards from the direction of the mountain, and a 
deep and sudden gloom settled over the village, But 


nothing yet was heard save the uninterrupted roaring, 
hissing sound which first caught the attention of Gideon. 
Suddenly a broad glare of light burst through the gloom 
that surrounded them — it dazzled, for an instant, the 
vision of Gideon, and in another he beheld its reflection 
playing over the ornaments on the person of Yenacona, 
like the bright fiery tongue of a serpent. Her silver 
locks glistened, and seemed almost inflamed from its re- 
flected lustre. Another instant, and a crash, such as 
might have attended the bursting of the whole fabric 
of nature, was heard immediately above them. Gideon 
felt as if he were himself smitten by some powerful 
arm, and cowered almost to the floor. Yenacona stood 
erect, though much excited, like the priestess of some 
ancient oracle, when under the maddening influence, 
mistaken by the deluded worshippers for the inspiration 
of her god. 

" The Lord also thundered in the Heavens," she con- 
tinued, " and the Highest gave forth his voice." — Then 
suddenly changing her flexible voice, and subduing it 
to a deep guttural whisper, " In the immediate presence 
of thy Eternal Judge ;' ; — she continued, "with the voice 
of His might now sounding in thy ears, bow down upon 
thy knees and swear." — 

Gideon found himself a passive instrument in the 
hands of the mysterious being in whose presence he 
stood; to whom his imagination, for the present, attri- 
buted a more intimate connection with the tremendous 
war of the elements then going on, than either truth or 
reason could justify; and almost unconsciously did as 
he was commanded. — He threw himself upon his knees 
and kissed the crucifix, as each one of the thousand 
mountains filling the valley of the Tennessee, caught 
the long sound above them, and sent it rolling onwards 
until it fell faintly on the listening ear, as it died away 
in the distance. 

" This is well !" — shouted Yenacona, " and a gleam 
of joy may yet come to the heart of the wretched." 

Gideon arose pale and agitated, as the heavy cloud 


began to pour itself out upon the earth, more like the 
gushing and dashing of a million of small cataracts, 
than the gentle rain descending from Heaven. Peal 
upon peal of thunder rent the air — now booming with 
the dull and heavy sound of a distant cannon — then 
with the clear, shrill crack of a rifle, and anon sound- 
ing as if the cloud had been a heavy screen of some 
strong dark material suddenly rent asunder by a gigan- 
tic arm. Gideon ^and Yenacona stood silent; — each 
wrapped in the thoughts or apprehensions peculiar to 
their respective bosoms. 

At length the fall of rain gradually moderated, until 
the numberless smail streams it had formed, as they 
poured along their muddy little currents to mingle with 
the Tennessee, could be distinctly heard above the di- 
minished clamor of the storm, as the voice of the son 
grows more loud and manly as that of the parent is 
sinking into " childish treble pipes again." The thun- 
der peals were changed to a low, distant grumbling, 
like the growl of a retreating lion, uttered in warning 
to those who might think of pursuit. 

" 'Tis past," — said Yenacona, " the fury of the storm 
is over ; — but the vow hath been uttered under circum- 
stances no less imposing than those under which she 
exacted it from himP 

The sun now suddenly burst forth, and a joyous 
smile seemed to suffuse itself over the face of nature. 
A golden network was spread over the earth, like a 
gorgeous mantle, as, in the process of prismatic re- 
fraction, the yellow, orange, and red rays which shot 
down into the sparkling rain drops, along with the 
violet, indigo, blue, and green, shone out more conspicu- 
ously in their separation from their less pretending 
companions. Far in the east the sky began at first, 
near the horizon, at two points distant from each other, 
to assume a variegated luminous appearance, whicli 
gradually projected, in the segment of a circle, towards 
the zenith, meeting and forming a most resplendent 


"There was a rainbow round about the throne," said 
Yenacona, with a countenance reflective of the calm 
cheerful beauty of the scene without, 'in sight like 
unto an emerald.' — It is the arch of peace and glory — 
it is the bow of promise. — Mr. Aymor," she continued, 
turning to Gideon, " Heaven hath heard your vow, and 
will smile upon its fulfilment." 

" Then," said Gideon, somewhat recovered from his 
perplexity and agitation, " I may count, madam, on your 
kind offices." 

"You may," she replied, "but most depends on 
yourself; — become a Christian, not only in theory but 
in practice, and do your utmost to render the Little 
Deer so, and your success is certain." 

" The most wicked white man I ever saw," said 
Gideon, " would like to have his wife a Christian ; and 
the value of the Little Deer, great as it now is, would 
be doubled in my eyes, were she to become so entirely a 
Christian as to throw off' all the absurd and disgusting 
practises of the Cherokees," 

" Our help is from the Lord," said Yenacona, kiss- 
ing her crucifix, " and our lady and St. Tamany will 
doubtless accept my petitions for your success " 

She curtsied, and retired from the apartment, with 
the dignity of a queen, leaving Gideon to recover, at 
leisure, his self-possession. 



And dost thou ask what secret wo, 
I bear corroding joy and youth ? 
- And wouldst thou vainly seek to know 
A pang ev'n thou must fail to sooth ? 


There is a native innocence and simplicity common 
in the female heart, but rarely found, among the ruder 
sex. The former is characterized, besides, by a more 
rigid adherence to principle, when once adopted, in spite 
of the sacrifices to which it may lead. Women are, 
perhaps, more easily deceived than men, in questions of 
propriety, and lend a more submissive ear to any one 
who assumes to be a teacher ; but when sound lessons 
are once taught, the fruits of sound practice follow with 
most infallible certainty. Let them once be fully satisfied 
that an action involves a violation of principle, and it is 
seldom that considerations of mere expediency can tempt 
them to its commission. The decisions of the moral 
sense are probably not more correct in them than with 
men, but they are more inflexible. In some atmos- 
pheres paintings are said to preserve their freshness of 
coloring much better and longer than in others ; and 
there seems to be, in the female bosom, a peculiar apti- 
tude to retain in their pristine beauty each delineation 
of moral excellence. The simplicity of the female 
character melts us into love, its virtuous firmness excites 
our admiration, and commands our esteem. 

The storm described in our last chapter as being so 
opportune in the scene between Gideon and Yenacona, 
was an awful visitation to one of the inmates of the 
same dwelling. That morning the soft south breeze 
had early chased away the fog which, in the course of 
the night, had risen, like rags of silver gauze, from 


the bosom of the river, in the mellow moonlight, and 
uniting, finally, in one mass, had overspread the valley, 
wrapping each object in one general robe of invisibility. 
The rising sun had called the breeze into being, with 
his earliest rays, and, like a dutiful offspring, the breeze, 
in its turn, new, upon cheerful wing, to chase away 
every thing that might obscure the glories of its pa- 

The Little Deer heard the foliage of a perennial vine 
stirring under the gentle breath of the zephyr, and rose 
from her couch. " Thou incomprehensible Being," she 
exclaimed, opening her casement, and falling upon her 
knees, in the attitude of adoration, " whom my fathers 
have worshipped in their simplicity, as the Great Spirit, 
and of whom wonderful things are told by the white 
men, who adore thee as the triune God, assist the fee- 
blest of thy creatures in her search after truths, upon 
which rest her present and everlasting peace. — And if 
thy red children are lost in ignorance, which covers 
them as the fog did recently my native valley, let thy 
breath come gently, and chase away the dark shadows, 
as the soft breeze disperses the vapor, that the light of 
truth may cheer and warm their hearts. — But how shall 
thy will be communicated to a being such as I am ? — 
Approach me not in thy terrors, for how should I stand 
before thee? — But pour into my soul, as the dew fal- 
leth upon the earth, the suggestions of thy will. — This 
day is one of the customs of my people to be observed, 
and it is denounced by some, as not only vain and un- 
profitable, but dangerous and wicked. — Pity my blind- 
ness, oh, August Being, and teach me ' (for I am in a 
great strait) how it behoveth me to act. — If my people 
are right, I should be base and recreant not to share 
with them the reproach of well-doing ; — but if they are 
wrong, give me some manifestation that it is so, for I 
would not go with the multitude to do evil." 

Having said this, she determined to conform to the 
custom of the Cherokees, as she had always done, un- 
less something should occur that she might interpret 


into a Divine rebuke. But the morning passed oh in 
calmness, and not the slightest circumstance transpired 
unusually to affect her mind; and the arguments of 
Yenacona, neither few nor slackly pressed, had proven 
insufficient to convince her. 

The appointed hour arrived, and she repaired, with 
the other maidens of Tesumtoe to their parent stream ; 
but not, as had been supposed by Gideon, did she ex- 
pose her person among the mingled multitude. — No, 
the lessons of delicacy imparted to her by her aunt, 
had not been thrown away, but impressed themselves 
deeply on her character. Like another Diana, with a 
few chosen friends of her own sex, she sought a se- 
questered spot, where a cave in a rock, making up to 
the very brink of the stream, enabled them to conform 
to the customs of their people, without violence to their 

The ceremony was over, and she had returned home, 
and nothing had yet occurred to convince the maiden 
of the impropriety of the act in which she had been en- 
gaged. But at dinner the young white stranger, who 
had been kind and attentive to her during his stay at 
Tesumtoe — who had frequently addressed to her words 
of commendation — and for whom she entertained a sis- 
terly affection, had evidently shrunk from her with 
something like horror, when he understood that she 
had participated in the ceremony he accidentally wit- 
nessed. This simple circumstance went farther than 
any thing had previously done to shake her confidence 
in the rectitude of her course. She retired from the 
dinner table self-dissatisfied, and repaired to her own 
apartment, full of unpleasant reflections. 

Before leaving the table she had observed some 
symptoms of the storm, but they made no impression, 
until she found herself alone, and then the gloom which 
the gathering cloud threw over her apartment painful- 
ly added to the distress of her mind. A thought of 
anguish flashed upon her, with the first faint glimmer 
of the distant lightning. " This is the sign," — she said 


to herself, " and the Terrible One is displeased with 
what I have done." 

She heard the hoarse rushing- sound, as the cloud 
swept down from the mountain. " He is coming," — 
she murmured, — " He is coming in anger ;" — and threw 
herself upon her bed, with palpitating heart and labor- 
ed respiration. 

A blaze of intense light burst into the apartment, lick- 
ing up, as it were, in an instant, its whole contents, and 
departing as suddenly as it came, left behind an almost 
impalpable gloom. Another moment, and the awful 
crash, apparently just above her head, as if tearing for 
itself a way through the very roof of the building, 
completed the triumph over her mind of the imposing 
thought tlaat, in partial compliance with her own prayer, 
the Eternal himself was chiding her with His awful 
voice, or was coming to make, in her destruction, an 
example of terror to the residue of her people. In an 
agony of fear she hid her face in the bed-clothing, and 
remained, almost breathless, while the storm was ex- 
pending its fury. 

When, at length, it could only be heard indistinctly 
rumbling in the distance, she again became collected. 
And when the bright sun came forth anew, and laughed 
in joyously through the window of her apartment, she 
arose, and looked out upon the cheerful earth, and her 
heart could not withhold its sympathy. A feeling of 
delight, such as she had never before experienced, gush- 
ed in upon her soul, and overpowered its faculties. As 
in the morning, she opened the window, and threw her- 
self on her knees before it. The air kissed her fevered 
cheeks with the same balmy and refreshing influence. 
" Thou art merciful to thy children," she exclaimed, 
"oh thou Parent of the universe; — thy terrors have 
passed by me, and I am not consumed; — once more am 
I permitted to rejoice in thy smiles. — From henceforth 
I will know thee no more as the terrible Great Spirit 
of the red men, but as ' Our Father who art in Hea- 


A gentle tap at the door of her apartment startled 
her — she arose, and opened it. " Dear aunt," she 
exclaimed, as the person entered, " I can now pro- 
nounce, with confidence, at least one part of what you 
have taught me as the Apostles' Creed. I can say ' I 
believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven 
and earth.' " 

"It is well, my daughter," said Yenacona, "the 
smoking flax will yet burst into flame, and the nations 
of the red men will become the nations of God and of 
his Christ." 

The Little Deer then proceeded to relate to her aunt 
the effects of the recent storm upon her feelings, which 
Yenacona did all in her power to enforce and perpetu- 
ate. " I once heard some beautiful verses," she said, 
" quite to the purpose, one of which I remember — 

* God moves in a mysterious way, 
His wonders to perform ; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 
And rides upon the storm.' " 

The fine voice of Yenacona gave to the harmony 
and exalted poetry of the verse greatly increased effect, 
and, through their assistance, added to the impression 
already made upon the feelings of her niece. 

But the agitation of mind under which we have seen 
the Indian maid laboring, did not arise alone from doubt 
respecting the Spring bath of bitter herbs, or the terrible 
manner in which those doubts had been acted upon. — 
No ! — She had been for some time much harassed by 
the interesting subject of religion, and her aunt, who 
had first called her attention to it, was exceedingly 
active in pressing upon her those truths which are re- 
cognised by all classes of Christians, as well as many of 
the peculiar tenets of her own church. She had been 
for many months engaged to the young brave of Eonee 
to become his bride, and the promise had been made 
with the approval of both her heart and understand- 

VOL. II. — 5. 


ing\ But while her growing faith in the Christian 
religion was daily unsettling the approbation of her 
understanding, a recent event seemed to demand a re- 
versal of the decision of her heart. She was in that 
state of nervous irritability incident to the constant 
attrition upon her mind of these interesting and per- 
plexing subjects, at the time of her lover's return to Te- 
sumtoe. When Eoneguski, on that evening, glided from 
the presence of Gideon and Yenacona, into the adjoin- 
ing apartment, as he anticipated, he found there the 
Little Deer. She was alone, but did not, according 
to his expectation, advance to meet her young brave 
after so long a separation, in affectionate confidence. 
On the contrary, when she heard the sound of ap- 
proaching footsteps, tremor seized upon her limbs, 
and they were no longer adequate to her support ; to 
save herself from falling, she sank down into a chair, 
and, with her head leaning upon the back, was weeping 
and sobbing. She did not even look up, as Eoneguski 
entered ; who laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder, 
and said, in an affectionate tone of voice, " Why does 
grief bow down the beautiful head of the Little Deer, 
as do the heavy rain drops the blossoms of the lily? — 
But the sun kisses away the rain drop from the lily — 
and shall not Eoneguski dry up the tears that dim 
the bright eyes of the Little Deer ?" 

Instead of soothing her, the Indian lover was sur- 
prised and mortified to find that he was but opening 
anew the sources of her grief; for her tears flowed 
faster, and her sobs became more deep and audible. 

" What can Eoneguski do," he inquired, after a pause, 
"to relieve the distresses of the Little Deer?" — Still he 
received no answer. 

" Is the presence of Eoneguski no longer pleasant 
to the Little Deer?" he said. 

" Have pity upon me," said the Little Deer, at length, 
" and do not afflict me with questions which I am now 
unable to answer." 


Eoneguski folded his arms, and elevating himself to 
his full height, looked for some moments steadfastly 
upon the interesting object before him, with her long 
black hair dishevelled and hanging over her beautifully 
formed neck and shoulders, now moved by convulsive 
heavings. The strife of passions was in his soul, while 
melancholy composure sat upon his countenance. At 
length he spoke — "Eoneguski hath returned from wan- 
derings long, difficult, and dangerous " 

" TeJl me not of thy wanderings," interrupted the 
Little Deer, "they are grief to my soul." 

u Hah !" said the warrior, " dost thou too condemn 
me ? — Said I not that the eye of the Evil Spirit was on 
the path of Eoneguski ?" 

" I do eondemn thee, but it is with a bleeding heart," 
replied the maiden, while she almost gasped for utterance. 

" There is kindness in thy voice," he said, mourn- 
fully, "and it is soothing to my soul; — it comes, as in 
former days, like the plaintive note of the Wekolis, 
when he tells of the coming of a happier season." 

" I fear," said the Indian girl, in a correspondent tone 
of voice, " that happiness has forever fled from the Lit- 
tle Deer, and that the son of the Eonee chief, if he ever 
finds it, must seek for it with some more fortunate 

" Say not so," he answered, " the happiness of Eone- 
guski is in the keeping of the Little Deer." 

" How can she who hath lost her own, be a safe de- 
pository of that of another ?" she said, for the first time 
looking him in the face, with a look as forcibly inquisi- 
tive as her question. 

"She shall find it again;" he replied — "if the conduct 
of Eoneguski hath displeased the Little Deer, let her 
hear his reasons, and her gentle heart will exchange 
censure for approbation." 

" Alas ! I know not what to approve or what to cen- 
sure ;" she answered. " I am now bewildered with 
doubts ; when time shall have solved them, I will listen 
and decide whether the fate of Eoneguski and the Lit- 


tie Deer shall be one, or whether two separate paths 
must conduct them through the journey of life." 

The Indian was startled. " Is it so V 1 — he inquired, 
" and does the fate of Eoneguski hang in balanced 
scales before the eyes of the Little Deer ? — To doubt is 
to decide ! — If the heart of the Little Deer- was not 
changed towards Eoneguski, she would not speak 
doubtfully of their being one." 

He turned, as if about to leave the apartment — "Eone- 
guski," she said, with more calmness than she had yet 
manifested, " you know nothing of what is passing in 
the bosom of the Little Deer — act not with rashness, 
but wait with patience the decision of time." 

" What am I to understand ?" he said. " Tell me, 
at once, in what hath Eoneguski changed in the estima- 
tion of the Little Deer ?" 

" A terrible strife," she replied, " is going on in the 
bosom of the Little Deer. — Wouldst thou crush the 
heart of one you profess to love 1 — Then press me not 
now, for an answer to thy questions." 

The Indian was perplexed. He stood for a moment 
thoughtfully, and then replied — " I said I have returned 
from wanderings long, difficult, and dangerous — yet the 
Indian warrior laughs at fatigue and danger. But the 
Evil Spirit cast his eye upon Eoneguski, and sorrow 
and trouble came upon his soul — their clouds were 
dark and heavy. ' Let the storm descend,' I said, • for 
the Little Deer is the sun in the sky of Eoneguski, and 
her smiles will come upon him with their light and 
warmth, and the shadows of evil will vanish away.' 
But I have come, and the sun of my sky is dark — the 
cloud rests upon it, and it sends forth no smile to cheer 
the heart of Eoneguski." 

The Little Deer could not resist the appeal. As in 
a stormy day, through a rent in the opening clouds, the 
clear sunshine rests for a moment on some solitary spot, 
gilding it with glory, while the dark masses hover over 
the surrounding scenery, and closing again, hastily 
snatch away the transitory and partial brightness, so 


did a transient smile beam through the tears of the Lit- 
tle Deer upon her lover, and was instantly succeeded 
by the former sadness. 

"It is enough," said he; " Eoneguski is contented. 
He will come again when the clouds have passed away 
from the sun of his sky." 

So saying-, he left the Indian maiden to compose her- 
self for an interview with the stranger. 

It is no wonder, then, that the simple and conscien- 
tious heart of the Indian girl, strongly charged as it 
was with her national superstitions, and for the displace- 
ment and succession of which the sublime truths of 
Christianity were struggling, should have been so pow- 
erfully affected by the storm we have described. The 
deductions drawn from it by her were interwoven with 
the web of her destiny, and threw a complexion upon 
the whole of her future conduct. 

On the other hand, perplexing in the extreme were 
the speculations of Eoneguski upon what was passing 
in the soul of the Little Deer. They furnished much 
employment for his mind on his lonely journey to 
Eonee; and of the various conjectures which he made, 
but one seemed, even to himself, entitled to considera- 
tion. "She loves me," he said, "and her heart refuses 
to cast me off But she has heard that I have returned 
without the scalp of an enemy whose track I was pur- 
suing, and her pride disdains an alliance with the slug- 
gard or the coward. The proud daughter of Moytoy 
would match only with a hero. The threat Spirit will 
yet teach the Little Deer that Eoneguski is neither a 
coward nor a sluggard." 

The story of Gideon had satisfied Eoneguski that 
John Welch was one whose life was protected from his 
vengeance by many of the strongest considerations, and 
determined him to abandon the pursuit. Still there 
was room for doubt; and the impressions made upon his 
mind were of too delicate and important a nature to 
allow of their communication to those most interested 
in their truth, until all doubt was removed. It was 


his purpose to have seized the earliest opportunity of 
making them known to Eonah, and taking his counsel 
and opinion. We have seen how that purpose was 
frustrated for the present, leaving him in difficulty in 
his interview with the Little Deer, and compelling him 
to withhold explanations, which he conceived would 
have fully justified him in her estimation. But a cau- 
tious regard for the happiness of others induced him to 
submit to a present hardship, rather than relieve him- 
self by causing deep, affecting, and perhaps groundless 
excitement in others. " But John Welch," he continu- 
ed, " has been the Evil Spirit to me. Why did he cross 
my path, causing its flowers to wither, and thorns to 
spring up?" 



Bat gasping, hcav'd the breath that Lara drew, 
And dull the film along his dim eye grew. 


To watch by the bed of the dying is one of the most 
solemn and affecting of relative duties, and exercises 
most powerfully the feelings of the heart. The various 
sufferings, both of mind and body, which the patient 
undergoes, keep sympathy continually awake; and a 
ray of hope occasionally breaking through the thickest 
gloom, prevents the lethargy despair would occasion. 
In the solemn stillness that pervades the chamber, 
busy memory is left free to wander back over the path 
of former intercourse, and gather up the incidents which 
mark the worth of the dying, and endear him to the 
heart — while fancy is searching in the gloom of the fu- 
ture for what must so soon become distressing reality. 

When Eoneguski reached Eonee, he found every 
thing in a state of gloomy excitement, and soon learned 
that his father was supposed to be dying, and that the 
people were in that restless condition, by which a swarm 
of bees indicate the absence of their sovereign, and their 
sense of the necessity of speedily filling, with another, 
her vacated throne. He flew to the wigwam of the dy- 
ing chief, and the crowd gathered around the door gave 
way at his approach. He threw himself on his knees, 
beside the couch, but dared not give farther vent to his 
feelings, in the presence of the stern countenances look- 
ing watchfully upon him. 

The face of Eonah, during the short absence of his 
son, had become much more haggard ; his eyes, before 
quite dim, were now entirely sightless ; and the arm 
with which he had dealt his son the impotent blow, lay 


nerveless beside him. Nothing but the moving of the 
chest, and a snoring noise, like that of one sleeping, 
spoke any thing of life in the once matchless warrior. 
But death seemed loath to complete his triumph, and, for 
many hours, to pause in his advance. Meantime the 
dutiful savage sat by his father, and ever and anon 
moistened his lips with a feather, and an occasional 
drop of the fluid rinding its way much lower, refreshed, 
for a brief instant, his throat and palate. The hope 
that he would ever again so far revive as to revoke the 
malediction which sat distressingly upon the feelings of 
Eoneguski, it seemed folly to indulge; and nothing was 
left to him but, with melancholy interest, to trim, ac- 
cording to his limited skill, the lamp of life just glim- 
mering in the socket, and watch its progress toward 
final extinction. He learned that, during his absence, 
the Saga had visited the chief, and after having admin- 
istered a few herbs, pronounced him entirely beyond his 
reach ; and, complaining of the infirmities of age, had 
returned immediately, to repose himself in his wigwam 
at Sugar Town. 

It was midnight, and Eoneguski, who had just risen 
from a brief nap, dismissed Mercury to repose, to take 
his own turn of watching by the dying chief. There 
was perfect silence in the hut, save the breathing of 
Eonah, which was growing fainter and more faint. — 
Dim, very dim was the light in the apartment, and the 
weary watcher, whose animal spirits were subdued by 
multiplied afflictions, had sunk into that half sleeping 
state, in which things real and imaginary form mingled 
and shifting pictures before the mind. — He was stand- 
ing, in fancy, near the banks of the Homony, watching 
for Welch, and distinctly heard the low hissing ripple 
of its waters : " Humph," said he, starting, " it is the 
breathing of my father." 

He again relapsed into the half unconscious state, 
and one of the scenes of his earliest manhood was be- 
fore him; — he was hunting deer amongst his native 
mountains and valleys ; — a stag was bounding, at no 


great distance, unsuspectingly towards him; — he knew 
it by the slow successive leaps with which the earth 
resounded. — The hunter prepared for the slaughter of 
his noble game, and in so doing, jostled his seat, and 
awoke himself. — It was his own heart, laboring under 
the accumulation of half stagnated blood, he had 

Yet again he was in the land of shadows; — the 
Little Deer was before him, as in their earliest acquaint- 
ance — when confidence was between them ; — she was 
in the wigwam of her mother, in the heat of a sum- 
mer's day, and her head had fallen back in gentle slum- 
ber against the back of the chair whereon she sat. — He 
softly approached, and sunk down on the ground beside 
her; — her head declined still lower, and, among the 
thick masses of her long glossy hair, he was horror 
stricken at beholding a venemous little serpent inter- 
twined, fixing upon him its bright fiery eyes, and threat- 
eningly licking out its forked tongue. — He reached 
forth his hand to tear the serpent from the head of the 
beloved one, and, as he attempted to seize it by the 
throat, it fixed upon one of his fingers its poisonous 
fangs. — The pain awoke him, and he found himself 
stretched along by the fire, in his father's wigwam, with 
a live coal near him. It was evident that, heavy with 
sleep, he had slid down from his seat, and, under the 
impulse of fancy, having stretched forth his arm, one of 
his fingers came in contact with the fire. 

He resumed his position, and, for a few moments, the 
slight pain of the burn kept him awake. It soon, how- 
ever, subsided, and again the semi-transparent veil was 
let down over him. He was in the wigwam of Eonah, 
watching the feverish slumbers of his dying father : — 
strength had apparently deserted forever the limbs of 
the aged warrior, and they lay upon his couch in more 
than infantile imbecility ; — his eyelids were half closed, 
as if in their last sleep, and the mouth lay widely dis- 
tended, that there might be no hindrance to the ingress 
and egress of the unwilling breath. — Presently there 


was a quivering of the heavy eyelids, and their curtains 
were drawn up from the dim sightless orbs they had 
hitherto partially shaded ; — the widely opened mouth 
closed as by a mechanical spring; — the hitherto rigid 
nostrils began to play in natural respiration, and the 
chief arose to a sitting posture. 

Eoneguski started, as he had done on former occa- 
sions, under the impression that he was awaking from 
the mockery of a dream. But either his senses were 
still the dupes of delusion, or he was witnessing nothing 
less than a most surprising reality. There sat before 
him, in the dim light, the aged chief, with open eyes, 
evidently striving to apply those organs to their natural 
use. " Where am I?" — he said, in a voice quite na- 

Eoneguski was greatly moved, but he was, as we 
have had occasion to shew, a man of firmness, and has- 
tened to relieve the solicitude of the inquirer, by the 
answer, " You are in your own wigwam at Eonee." 

" It is the voice of Eoneguski — of my only son," said 
the chief. — " They told me he was a recreant and 
a coward, but I knew it was false — my young war- 
rior hath returned, and his hand is red with the blood 
of John Welch — dripping warm from his scalp. — But 
fly to the Saga, at Sugar Town, and tell him that the 
angel of death has quitted his prey for a season — that 
Eonah yet lives, and calls for the aid of the Great Me- 
dicine — fly — fly I say.' 1 

Obedient to the paternal behest, Eoneguski woke up 
Mercury to attend upon the chief, whilst he moved his 
sinewy limbs, and bent himself to outstrip in speed the 
fabled Apollo, when he followed the flying footsteps of 
the beautiful Daphne. He left behind him the sha- 
dows of night when he arrived at the door of Sus- 
quanannacunahata, and made the frail tenement shake 
with his impatient demand for admittance. 

Wissa rose, muttering some unearthly sound of dis- 
pleasure, and proceeded to reconnoitre the person of the 
untimely visiter ; but he no sooner perceived who it was 


than every trace of displeasure faded from his counte- 
nance, and the door was thrown open for him to enter. 
The Saga opened his dim eyes, and turned them upon 
the visiter, who approached his couch. 

" Who art thou," said the Saga. 

" I am Eoneguski," was the reply. 

" Thou comest to the Saga," said the Prophet, " to 
pour flattery into his ears, that thou mayst be the chief 
of Eonee in the room of the deceased Eonah." 

" The Great Spirit hath spared Eonah," replied the 
young Indian, " and Eoneguski is breathless with the 
haste in which he hath flown to bring the Saga word, 
that he may snatch the prey from the angel of death — 
Eonah says come and heal him." 

The suddenness of the information that Eonah was 
yet alive, deprived Susquanannacunahata of his usual 
self-command ; for, had he learnt that one had actually 
arisen from the dead, his surprise could not have been 
in reality greater, or more unequivocally expressed in 
his countenance. 

" Thy brain is disordered, and thou dreamest," he 
said. — " The spirit of Eonah is in the land of the bless- 

" I do not dream," was the reply ; " but come thou 
and stay the spirit of the aged warrior, while I fly 
back and tell him that thou comest." 

" It is enough," said the Saga, " I will come." 

Eoneguski once more like the swift race horse de- 
voured the ground between Sugar Town and Eonee, 
and was soon again beside the couch of his father. He 
was astonished to perceive him lying in seeming com- 
posure with the powers of life wonderfully renovated, 
and having taken, as Mercury informed him, a good 
deal of nourishment. 

" Has he come ?" said the chief, addressing Eone- 

" No," replied the young man ; — " the feathers of the 
aged eagle are few, and the strength of his wing is 


small — there is no speed in his flight. — The sun, now 
high in the Heavens, must be low ere the Saga will 
reach Eonee." 

" I must live to see him," said Eonah, composedly ; 
and, turning his face to the wall, signified that he desired 
silence, and soon his chest was heaving with the full 
deep breathing of healthy sleep. 

Meantime Wissa had prepared for the Saga his tra- 
velling vehicle, which consisted of a cart drawn by 
two small aged oxen, which looked not as if their food 
had been as visionary as the prognostications of their 
master. It was impossible it should be so in the rich 
native pastures among which they were allowed to stray 
with a freedom as unrestrained as those of the ancient 
Tityrus, while their master, like him, expatiated in vati- 
cinatory dignity. The black boy was not long in ar- 
ranging the simple geer, which consisted of a yoke only, 
with a withe atttached to it, through which the tongue 
of the cart protruded, and to which it was very inartifi- 
cially secured. Blankets and buffalo skins formed for 
the Prophet a comfortable couch in the body of the 
car, and in this primitive style, with Wissa for his cha- 
rioteer, he proceeded to Eonee. 

As Eoneguski had anticipated, the sun was low 
when he reached his place of destination ; for his slow 
paced cattle were left very far behind by the winged 
steeds of Phoebus. It was difficult to say which was 
the nearest death, the patient or the physician; as, ex- 
hausted by his journey, the Saga was borne in on his 
couch, and laid down by the side of Eonah. 

" Why does not the Great Medicine heal himself?" 
said the latter, sarcastically. 

" Age is a disease," said the Saga, in a tone of voice 
scarcely beyond a whisper, " that defies the art of the 
greatest Medicine." 

" Thou hast done wonders for Eonah," continued the 
chief; — "thou art doubtless rejoiced to have snatched 
him from the grave." 


" It is the Great Spirit who gives power to the Me- 
dicine," replied the Saga, still faintly, " and it is to him 
that life and death belong." 

" It is well," said Eonah, " and thou knowest Sus- 
quanannacunahata — thou hast reason to know — that he 
can impart a healing influence to what was intended to 

He signed for all but the Saga, Eoneguski and Wissa 
to leave the wigwam. The signal was obeyed, and the 
door closed. 

" Yes," he continued, " I have long known thee, Sus- 
quanannacunahata — and I knew that thou hatest me, 
because I knew thee ; but I dreamed not that thou wouldst 
poison the cup of him who trusted thee." 

Conscious guilt put its seal upon the time-worn face 
of the Saga as he assayed to deny with his tongue 
what his looks confessed. " Remember," said he, while 
the words trembled upon his lips, "remember Eonah 
where thou now liest — cheat not thyself with the hope 
of life ; — thou art on thy bed of death — lie not then in 
the presence of its angel. — Stain not thy own soul 
with falsehood, that thou may'st dishonor these hairs 
which are bleached with the dews of more than twelve 
hundred moons." 

"Eonah does not cheat himself with the hope of life," 
replied the chief; "he feels that he is hastening to the 
hunting grounds of the blessed ; but in the presence of 
the angel of death he charges the Saga of Sugar Town 
with putting poison in the sick man's cup." 

" The charge disproves itself:" said the Saga — "Art 
thou not alive, and better than when the Saga came to 
thy door?" 

" It is true," replied Eonah, " but it is not to thee 
I am indebted for it ; another hand threw in the anti- 
dote, (the Saga turned his eyes suddenly upon Wissa, 
who sat with the dull unapprehensive look of one who 
is deaf,) where thine had deposited the poison. — But 
fear not ; Eonah, as we have said, is hastening to join 
the ghosts of his fathers, and thirsts not for vengeance. 

VOL. II. — 6. 


Thy guilt shall be buried in the grave of Eonah, and in 
the faithful bosom of Eoneguski, upon one condition." — 

A gleam of joy flitted across the daik gloomy fea- 
tures of the Saga, as he listened for the condition — 

" The hearts of the Eonee," continued the chief, "are 
in the hands of the Saga — let him turn them towards 
Eoneguski, as their chief, when Eonah shall sleep in 

" The hands of the Saga are pure from the guilt im- 
puted to him," replied the Prophet.—" Nay, does he 
not love the race of Eonah? and who but Eoneguski 
could he desire to see as the chief of the Eonee ?." 

" It is well," said the chief; " let the heads of the 
people hear thee express, in our presence, the wish that 
Eoneguski shall be the chief of the Eonee when his 
sire is no more." 

The old Prophet assayed to speak, but the words 
he uttered, if any, were not heard, and, in an instant, 
more than a dozen of the principal aged men of Eonee 
were in the wigwam of their chief. Among them was 
Chuheluh. Raising himself on his couch, with an ani- 
mation which greatly surprised them, Eonah addressed 
the assembled elders : — 

" Fathers," he said, " the bow of the warrior is un- 
strung; — his arrows are broken, and his tomahawk and 
scalping-knife are dull. — Fathers, Eonah is no longer 
wise in council, nor valiant in fight — the feathers are 
no longer in the wing of the Eagle, and the teeth of 
the Lion are broken. Let the brave repose where 
sleep the fathers of his race, after the ancient manner of 
the Oewoehee. — But who shall henceforth lead you in 
the chase? — Who shall be the first among you in the 
strife of the manly ball play? — Who shall lead the 
dance at the joyous feast of the early roasting-ear ? — 
Whose shout shall be heard the first and the loudest 
among the Eonee when they gather with the rest of 
the Oewoehee to the feast of battle ?" 

A melancholy murmur ran through the assembly as 
the speaker paused, and turned his sightless eyes in 


every direction — " The blood of Eonah," he continued, 
" runs in the veins of Eoneguski ; — he will be wise in 
council, and valiant in battle, like his sire. The Saga 
hath said it is the will of the Great Spirit that the 
young brave shall be the chief of the Eonee, when the 
sun of Eonah has set?" 

Every eye was turned upon the Saga, expecting him 
to speak, but he was silent. After waiting for some 
moments — "Is the Saga in the wigwam?" inquired 

" He is," answered several voices. 

" Has the heart of the Saga changed? — Let him re- 
member," — he said, in a tone of warning. 

" The Saga changes not," — was the reply, with a 
stammering voice. He was about to proceed, but his 
eye caught that of Chuheluh, and there was something 
in the look of the latter that did not escape the notice 
of even the dim vision of the Saga, and his speech was 

" Eonah is yet alive," cried the impatient chief. — " Is 
it the will of Heaven that Eoneguski should be the 
chief of the Eonee, or that another should die the death 
of an assassin ?" 

" It is the will of Heaven," said the Saga, closing his 
eyes in desperation, like the bull when he rushes madly 
on those who provoke him to conflict — " It is the will of 
Heaven that Eoneguski should be the chief of the 

" Susquanannacunahata is a false-hearted villain!" 
cried a voice in the throng. 

" Slay the impious wretch!" — cried another. — " Who 
dares to charge the Great Prophet and Medicine with 
villany ?" 

Many hands were ready to execute the sentence, but 
no one could tell who was the offender; suspicion, how- 
ever, rested on Chuheluh, for he, who had but a few 
minutes before constituted one of the members of the 
assembly, was no where to be seen. 

The rest of the elders approached, one by one, the 


bed of their dying chief, and taking, as they were con- 
scious, a last look of their leader in many a scene of 
mirth and danger, retired in melancholy silence. 

When they were all gone — " Does Eonah," inquired 
the Saga, "desire that Susquanannacunahata should 
prepare any thing for the infirmities of his body f j 

" The dealings of Eonah and Susquanannacunahata 
are finished in this life," was the answer. 

" Then Susquanannacunahata may return to his wig- 
wam at Sugar Town'?" 

" He may," replied Eonah, " but first let him give 
me his hand — let us part as those who have shared to- 
gether the couch and the cup — the wigwam and the 
battle field — the love of the customs of our brave fathers 
— and a bitter hatred of the pale faces.— Eonah despises 
villany, but in spite of it he respects a brave man. — 
We part, Susquanannacunahata, yet it is but as the sun 
sets to rise on the morrow. — Soon — very soon, we shall 
meet to part no more — for Eonah is on his bed of death 
— and yet Susquanannnacunahata will be the first to 
sing his death-song." 

He ceased, and the Saga was conducted in silence to 
his car, and soon its wheels were heard slowly creak- 
ing, as Wissa urged with a goad the tardy cattle. 

When they were left alone in the hut — " Did I not tell 
you," said Eonah to Eoneguski, "he was a villain. — 
I saw him cast the poison into the cup he gave me, but 
it was not unexpected, and the same person who pre- 
pared me for the deed, cast in the antidote to obviate its 

A good deal of conversation passed between the 
father and the son, which it is beside our purpose to re- 
late; suffice it to say, that Eonah made no allusion to 
the harshness with which he had treated Eoneguski, 
and the latter had the satisfaction of believing that it 
was the act of a moment of mental incoherency, and 
had retained no place in the memory of the old 



Revenge his God — to murder lead, 

***** * 

When wreak'd his wrath, he turns to dart 
His sting into his patron's heart. 


There is nothing so humbling to human pride as 
detected baseness, and the higher the previous preten- 
sions of the malefactor, the more galling and intoler- 
able the vengeance with which his own pride visits him. 
There are thousands in the world whose only restraint 
from guilt is the fear of its detection by men — utterly 
unmindful of that sleepless eye which spies out all their 
actions. Save only as this fear may disturb their quiet, 
many pass through the successive days of a long life 
with perfect composure in the commission of crimes 
most revolting to virtue, who are driven to desperation 
and suicide by the disclosure of the smallest of their 
villanies. They are seized with the sorrow which, 
saith the Scriptures, worketh death, and nothing can 
alleviate it but self-destruction, or a deeper plunge into 
open and shameless wickedness. 

Such was the scorpion preying on the heart of the 
Saga, as he was pursuing his way homeward, with no 
company but that of the dumb Wissa. It was night, 
and the moon had not risen — a balmy air was blowing 
freshly from the south, being nearly the direction in 
which they were travelling, but a sudden turn in the 
road on the descent of a hill of some length, threw 
them facing, as it were, to the right about. All at once 
the glimmering reflection of a bright light was percep- 
tible before them ; — Wissa pointed it out to the Saga ; 
but it was a subject upon which they could not well 



exchange their thoughts by signs, and it remained 
therefore for each to speculate as he might upon what 
considerably surprised them both. But they had not 
much time for speculation, for the Saga presently heard 
behind him the roaring sound of a conflagration, and 
looking back beheld a sheet of flame descending the 
hill above them in swift pursuit. He did not make 
the discovery sooner than Wissa, whose quicker eye 
placed him pretty nearly on an equality with his master, 
who supposed himself in the exclusive possession, as 
between them, of the faculty of hearing. 

"Fire! master," cried Wissa; possibly like the 
younger Crossus, impelled by a sense of imminent dan- 
ger to exert a force sufficient to rupture the bonds by 
which his tongue had been so long held in confine- 

Much as the Saga was moved by the immediate 
danger that threatened him, he was for an instant 
scarcely conscious of it, so much was he affected at 
hearing an articulate sound from the lips of the dumb. 
Wissa' s first idea was to urge the cattle to a speed which 
might outrun the flames, and the animals themselves 
were not so unconscious of danger as to be backward 
in obeying the incitements which Wissa dealt them 
thickly en croupe. 

They struck off in an awkward run, and the cart 
once getting fairly in motion, from the natural effect of 
gravitation, became impatient of the yet slow gait of 
the cattle, and pressing forcibly upon them, united with 
Wissa in urging them to greater exertions. For a 
time they resisted with native stubbornness this new im- 
pulse, but finding it at length too powerful, they scam- 
pered away, no longer mindful of their direction, which 
they regulated, like running water, by the descent of the 
hill. Wissa finding his seat on the front part of the 
cart no longer tenable, yielded to his fate, and narrowly 
escaped, as he fell, being run over by one or both 
wheels. Although not projected from a height near 
so great, he was in danger, like another Phseton, of 


suffering from intense heat, to escape which, he no 
sooner touched the ground than he arose and took se- 
curity of his heels. 

Thundering down the precipitous hill side with his 
now ungoverned oxen, the Saga's bed was no longer 
one of "thrice driven down" — Jostled from side to side 
in his clumsy vehicle, his aged bones were nearly dis- 
located, and he felt himself every instant as trembling 
upon the verge of fate. At length one of the wheels 
encountered a large rock, and that side of the cart was 
carried up many feet from the ground, projecting the Saga 
with nearly the force of a rocket, and sending him to 
find a rough resting place upon a bed of stones. Here, 
bruised and mangled, he met a sudden and unlooked for 
termination to his journey, and fancied it the end of his 
earthly career. He lay uttering groans of agony, 
which, at length, arrested the attention of Wissa, who 
having placed himself where the direction of the fire 
no longer endangered his own person, became properly 
solicitous for the fate of his master. Having found 
him in his battered and helpless condition, his next con- 
cern was to strive for the recovery of their cart and 
oxen. He was not long in finding the former by the 
light of the fire, though truly in a wretched condition ; 
but of the oxen he could neither see nor hear either 
hair or hide, hoof or horn. 

Having now acquired the use of speech, and finding 
that alone he could do but little for the comfort of his 
wounded master, he sallied out in search of assistance, 
and after a time succeeded in collecting three or four 
Indians, whose superstitious reverence for the Saga, 
(more than doubled by the supposed miracle of speech 
being given to the dumb to meet his necessities,) inspired 
them with alacrity in his service. They were not lono- 
in constructing a hurdle, and having gathered up his 
scattered couch, formed quite an easy conveyance for 
the mangled Seer, on which they transported him to his 
wigwam in Sugar Town, in less time than he could 
have reached it in his slow-moving- wain. 


For several days he here lingered out a painful 
existence, suffering- under the complicated misery of 
bodily wounds and bruises of the spirit. Not a gleam 
of hope cheered the gloom of the prospect before him. 
Like an aged tree, time had but strengthened his hold 
upon the soil where he was rooted, and great must 
be the force that could wrench him from it. But of 
that force he now felt the application, and fearful 
was the cracking of the aged fibres. The retrospect 
of his life presented nothing to console him, and con- 
science was loud in her demands for atonement to 
many who had been the victims of his fraud and vio- 
lence. Many of those, alas, had long since passed 
beyond the reach of his offices of atonement, and for 
his wrongs to them his system of religion furnished 
no means of appeasing the clamors of conscience. 
But even his unenlightened mind dictated retribution 
to all those to whom it was yet in his power to make 
it, and, late as it was, to one at least — the most inno- 
cent and wronged among the many whom he had visit- 
ed with affliction — he resolved to send and pour the only 
balm in his power into a long festering wound. Yet 
was it with reluctance that he adopted this determina- 
tion, and consented to abandon the further prosecution 
of a revenge, which had, for years past, been his living 
principle of action. His purpose was not carried into 
execution until just at the moment when, by the fiat of 
that very demon at whose altar he had so devoutly 
ministered his dark spirit, and the body it had actuated 
for a century, were about to dissolve forever their unholy 



It seem'd as if, in murmurs nigh, 
Throbb'd on her ear some melody, 

She once had lov'd, and sung; — 
And well known voices whispcr'd near, 
Even to her darkling memory dear. 


Sowing in deceit, and reaping in sorrow, seem to 
follow each other, as natural consequences, and one or 
the other of these unprofitable employments occupies 
most of the time of a large portion of our race. But 
these moral processes differ widely from the physical 
ones we make use of to typify them, in the absence, in 
the one, of those regular periods which mark the other. 
In the former it often happens that one man is sowing 
his invisible seed, at the same moment that another is 
reaping his crop of ruin. 

This was the case with Gideon Aymor and the Saga 
at Sugar Town ; and while the latter was, in bitterness 
of soul, gathering in the destructive harvest of a life 
of fraud, the former was busily sowing in deceit and 
treachery. We left him under the auspices of Yena- 
cona, resolved to win and wear the Little Deer, if he 
could, regardless of her plighted troth, and his own ob- 
ligations to Eoneguski. The undertaking seemed to 
have inspired the singular devotee herself with new life 
and energy, and she embarked at once deeply in the 
cause. Nor was Gideon himself either slow or un- 
skilful in assailing and besieging, by turns, that dis- 
turbed citadel — the heart of the swarthy beauty. But 
little time, however, elapsed, before a serious interrup- 
tion took place in the plans of the confederates. 

The evening succeeding that on which they had en- 


tered into their stormy alliance, two Africans arrived at 
Tesumtoe — the one as envoy to Gideon, and the other 
to Yenacona. Gideon, in his, at once recognised Mer- 
cury, who had come from Eoneguski to request his im- 
mediate presence at Eonee, at the last rites with which 
the remains of Eonah were to be honored. He felt 
that it was an invitation he could not, with propriety, 
disregard, however reluctant he might be to abandon 
his present highly advantageous position. But as the 
rites were not to be performed until the third day, he 
had yet some hours, during which he might remain at 
Tesumtoe. He soon discovered that the tidings of the 
other messenger, whatever they might be, powerfully 
affected both his hostess and her niece. They had hur- 
ried meetings, and as quickly separated, each repairing 
to her own apartment. — Again they might be seen rest- 
lessly flitting hither and thither, with handkerchiefs at 
their faces, while neither of them, as usual, favored him 
with her company. His curiosity was excited, and he 
strove to gather something from Mercury to satisfy it. 
But Mercury could afford him no relief. 

The night passed away restlessly, and Gideon was 
not a little surprised at receiving a very early summons 
to visit Yenacona in her own apartment. Obeying it, 
with haste, he was struck, as he entered, with a great 
change in her appearance. She was clothed in deep 
rich mourning, and it was evident that much of her 
time, since he last saw her, had been spent in weeping, 
yet her countenance was less dejected than usual ; there 
was on her cheek a feverish flush, and the light of some 
new hope was kindled in her eye. She had just risen 
from her morning devotions, for the time-worn cushion 
beside her still bore the impressions of her knees, and 
an ancient breviary lay not far distant. She made a 
sign to Aymor to be seated. " I am sorry to hear," she 
said, in the most touching tone of her sweet melancholy 
voice, "that Mr. Aymor is about to leave us for a 
time ; — for a time, did I say 1 ? — it may be forever — for 
in this uncertain world, how difficult is it for friends, 


once separated, to meet again, even when that awful 
distinction which divides the living from the dead has 
not passed between them?" 

" I cannot be less sorry than yourself," said Gideon, 
" for the loss will be entirely on my side ; but I trust 
our separation will be, indeed, a short one. — Remem- 
ber," he added, with an attempt at gayety, "that the 
conquest of the heart of the Little Deer is not yet 

" Thanks to St. Tamany," she replied, clasping her 
hands devoutly, and then crossing herself several times, 
" the insurmountable obstacle to the union of Eone- 
guski and the Little Deer does not exist." 

Gideon colored with surprise and vexation. " And 
is this your engagement to befriend me in my suit," he 
said, a little angrily, "that you rejoice in the brighten- 
ing prospects of my rival?" 

" And why should I not rejoice ?" she almost yelled. 
" Mr. Aymor, she continued, with more calmness, " you 
are not a father, and even if you were, you could then 
but faintly conceive the deep affection which binds the 
mother to her offspring. Turn not upon her, then, the 
look of displeasure, if joy is stirred in her heart, which 
has yeained with a mother's longings for her first and 
only born, when she finds contradicted the cruel stoiy 
that his blood had been poured out, to allay the unap- 
peaseable thirst of the devouring flame, or the vengeance 
of a relentless foe." 

The wild emotion that accompanied the latter part 
of what was thus uttered, confounded Gideon, and sug- 
gested to him the oft adopted, and as frequently dismiss- 
ed, idea, that the person in whose presence he sat was a 
lunatic. He was silent. She threw her keen eyes up- 
on him, and seemed to look into his very soul. " 1 
know your thoughts, Mr. Aymor," she said, " but I par- 
don you. — Yes, the brain of Yenacona is unsettled — 
and well it may be. — It was that you might learn the 
story of her woes, I have sent for you. — You will 
change anger for pity, when you shall hear my suffer- 


ings. But it is not to seek your useless compassion 
that I trouble you. — No! Mr. Aymor, there is one 
earthly comfort, (it may be yet within my reach,) for 
which my soul panteth, as doth the hart after the water 
brooks ; and it is with the hope that you may assist me 
in finding- my lost one, I afflict you with the rehearsal 
of my sad story. You will be surprised to learn that, 
notwithstanding the usual longevity of the Indian, and 
the security which that blood commonly possesses 
against the early inroads of time upon the constitution, 
I have not yet attained my fiftieth year. It was not 
time who stole from these locks their original black- 
ness; — it was the effect of horror and complicated grief, 
when I had realized less than twenty times the promise 
of the everlasting Father, that there should be a regular 
succession of seed time and harvest. But if my poor 
brain will suffer it," she said, pressing her hands strong- 
ly against her head for some moments, like one in ago- 
ny, " I will give you a short recital of my origin and 
wretched life. It may aid you in the discovery of my 
poor lost one, should the hand of Providence hereafter 
cast you together," 

There was too much interest in the person, her man- 
ner, and the circumstances under which he was address- 
ed, for Gideon to decline listening to the proposed reci- 
tal ; and Yenacona, perceiving he would be no heed- 
less auditor, proceeded, as follows : — 

yenacona's story. 

" Something more than fifty years ago, two powerful 
sovereigns of Europe, whose ancestors had been con- 
tending, during centuries, for supremacy in the old 
world, having formed a new and wider field for strife in 
the transatlantic home of the red men, were struggling 
together, each for its exclusive possession, with a fury 
which had been the growth of ages, nurtured by an 
almost uninterrupted series of mutual wrongs. Each, 
in his turn, courted the aid of the warlike natives in 


his war of extermination against his white brother. — 
The simple red men did not spurn proposals, that they 
should shed their blood, and throw away their lives, 
for the gratification and aggrandizement of those who 
had treacherously driven them from the graves of their 
fathers, and taken possession of the very spots where 
once smoked their ancestral hearths. — No! they lent a 
willing ear to these solicitations, and yelled with a thirst 
of blood, common to them, with their seducers. 

" Yet think not the red men were unconscious of the 
arts practised upon them, or that they were viewed by 
their employers as dupes, whose blind facility they des- 
pised, while they turned it to their own purposes. — No ! 
they saw, indeed, that they were led as sheep to the 
slaughter — but it was not with the heart of sheep they 
came to the shambles. Their bosoms burned with 
indignation nearly equal against those who led them to 
the place of slaughter, and those by whom they were 
actually slain. But they saw that the day of the red 
men had passed away, and that their tribes, numerous 
as they were, could not stand against the united power 
of the whites. In craft, then, and not in blind facility 
or weak simplicity, did they cherish the feuds of their 
enemies. They hoped, by partaking in their quarrel, to 
make them the means of destroying each other, that the 
ultimate conqueror might be, in turn, subdued by the 
rightful proprietors of the land. But disunion, and want 
of concert in opinion and action, marred, with them, as 
they have often done, and will yet do again, the plans 
of wiser people, and were the ostensible causes of the 
failure of their success. 

" On one side floated the oriflamme of France, and 
on the other the lion of England; and each of the nu- 
merous Indian tribes, according to their fancy, gathered 
to the waving of the broad silken folds of the one or the 
other, according as they were moved by the thousand 
mysterious workings of the human heart. 

" What would have been the result had all the tribes 
of the red men united themselves with one only of the 

VOL. II. 7. 


contending parties, can be known to Him alone in 
whose eye there is neither past nor future. 

" Moytoy, then, wore the four scalps and five eagles' 
tails, the diadem or emblem of royalty of the Oewoe- 
hee, and sixty times one hundred warriors were obedient 
to his voice. But the pride of Moytoy was not in his 
diadem, or the number of his warriors. — It was in his 
two brave sons, Toleniska and Attacallaculla. Moytoy 
espoused the quarrel of England, and sent his son Tole- 
niska with a portion of his warriors to battle, while he 
himself, time honored, remained at home with his 
younger son, Attacallaculla, and the rest of his people. 

" Far to the northward of us two streams meet, after 
having wandered by a winding way for countless miles, 
the one from the north, called the Alleghany, and the 
other from the south, called the Monongahela ; uniting, 
they form a noble river, and rush on to swell the glory 
of the father of waters. Where those two streams meet, 
the armies of France found a place of strength, and 
from hence it became the desire of the English to expel 
them. An accomplished General came for the purpose 
from that distant land, and headed the forces of England, 
aided by a few Anglo-American officers, among whom 
was one since known to the red men as their — Father 

There were many Indian warriors in the service of 
France, and they were scattered in ambush around the 
place of strength. The British General was ignorant 
of the arts of savage warfare, and mistook quiet for safe- 
ty. But Father Washington was no stranger to the 
customs of the red men, and modestly offered to the 
General a word of suggestion — but it was repelled with 
insult. Toleniska heard what had happened — he knew 
that Washington was right, and that the thousands, both 
of white and red men, upon whom their young leader 
looked round with confidence, were conducted by his 
rashness within the very jaws of destruction. But a 
voice more powerful than his had been disregarded, 
and he was silent. It is not for me to describe the 


scene that followed, suffice it to say, that the followers 
of Toleniska, with their white allies, were mowed 
down by a few Indians in ambush, like the ripe grain 
in harvest, and the survivors, like sheep scattered in 
the wilderness, were left to perish or find their way 
home deprived of their brave, but rash and inexperi- 
enced leader. 

" The desire of spoil, for the gratification of which 
ample means lay scattered around them, prevented the 
victorious Indians from pursuing their routed adversa- 
ries; so that the Cherokees had, in their turn, opportu- 
nities of indulging their native desire of pillage — and 
although vanquished, they returned home not spoiled, 
but spoilers. All whom they encountered, who had the 
misfortune to bear upon their tongues the French ac- 
cent, became the subjects of their furious vengeance, 
and they left many bloody hearthstones and smoking 
ruins behind them, while they bore away spoil, scalps, 
and prisoners. In passing through the State of Vir- 
ginia, their mistaken zeal for the English led them to 
the destruction of a few French families there settled 
in peace and quietness, little dreaming of the horrors 
impending over them. Their neighbors, outraged by 
this deed of violence, pursued the Cherokees to avenge 
their blood. The unconscious savages were no less 
surprised than their recent victims, at finding themselves 
so unexpectedly attacked by those in whose cause they 
supposed their late violence to have been committed, and 
lost more in killed and wounded by the hands of their 
friends, than they had done by the hostile Indians. 
Those who escaped came home, some of them bloody, 
and all of them frantic with a rage, which first indicated 
itself in a proposal to subject to the torture the few 
prisoners they retained. The satisfaction with which 
this proposal was received, was manifested by yells of 
savage triumph. Preparations were immediately made 
for the consummation of the fell purpose, and the vene- 
rable Moytoy himself presided at the bloody sacri- 


Yenacona became greatly moved, and paused to col- 
lect herself — " The prisoners," she at length proceeded, 
" were brought forth, and again the air was rent with 
yells of ferocious joy. Among them was a delicate, 
fair haired girl, pale and drooping as a flower long 
plucked from its parent stem. The horror of the 
scene did not arouse her from a state of unconsci- 
ousness, in which she was sustained upon her feet 
only by the rough grasp of those who were thirsting 
for her blood. The rest of the prisoners were all of 
the stronger sex, and, therefore, could have substracted 
nothing from the pity which, by gentle bosoms, would 
have been yielded without measure to the innocent 
creature, who, apparently in the sixteenth summer of 
her being, was about to perish by a cruel and lingering 
death, without a tear of sympathy or a look of com- 
passion to sooth her anguish. The ether victims had 
been stripped, that nothing might interfere with the 
modes of torture which the malice or ingenuity of the 
savage group might suggest. — An unceremonious hand 
was laid upon the unresisting girl for the same pur- 
pose. — ' Hold !' — shouted a manly voice. — ' Stand back, 
ye inhuman savages, and profane her not by your touch!' 

" A tall figure rushed from among the crowd, and 
forcing back the persons who held her, received into 
his arms the passive and almost lifeless maiden — 
'Behold!' — he said, 'Behold — the bride of Attacalla- 
eulla — and touch her not on the peril of your lives.' — 
The blood-thirsty savages made a rush to reclaim their 
victim, but Attacallaculla, with a blow of his toma- 
hawk, stretched at his feet one of her assailants, and 
checked the advance of his associates. 

" All was now confusion, and every eye was turned 
upon Moytoy, whose tongue was chained in astonish- 
ment. Attacallaculla, suddenly recollecting himself, 
dropped upon his knee before his father, and acknow- 
ledged, penitentially, his breach of the deference due to 
him. — ' But my father will not deny the maiden to his 
son?' he said. 


" A general cry from the barbarian throng, that the 
victims should be sacrificed without exception, prevent- 
ed any relentings which Moytoy might have indulged 
in favor of his son, and he therefore sternly commanded 
him to surrender the girl. 

"'Never!' exclaimed Attacallaculla firmly, ' Never 
while the heart of the young warrior beats with love 
and valor !' 

" ' Then force must overcome thy rashness,' said 
Moytoy, angrily. 

" ' Hear me, but once,' — said Attacallaculla, compo- 
sedly. — ' I know that my single arm is no match for 
your legions, and that you have the power to snatch this 
maiden by force from my embrace — but you can never, 
against my will, convey her to the torture. — The knife 
of Attacallaculla is sharp,' — he said, as he held up the 
keen and glittering blade with a triumphant smile, ' and 
can, in an instant, dismiss the soul of the maiden where 
your power cannot reach her. — And think you the 
spirit of Attacallaculla would linger behind her? — No! 
no !' he shouted, ' it should wing its way with hers to 
the land of the blessed, where none would be found so 
cruel as to part us.' 

" Toleniska now interposed, and prevailed upon the 
people and his father to yield to the passion of Attacal- 
laculla, and proceed with the sacrifice of the other 
victims. The prospect it afforded of a more speedy 
gratification of their own cruel longings, made more 
acceptable to the people a course which the popularity 
of Attacallaculla with themselves, and the alarmed 
affection of Moytoy for his son, inclined all parties to 

Attacallaculla bore the maiden off in triumph to his 
wigwam, while the rest of the party proceeded with 
their feast of vengeance ; and the shrieks and groans 
of agony that burst from the victims, were mingled 
with the shouts of hellish joy uttered by their tor- 

" It was long ere the stranger awoke to a know- 


ledge of what had transpired in many of the past weeks 
of her existence, and for that knowledge she was de- 
pendant entirely upon the information of others. Me- 
mory had no record of any event, since, at one fell 
swoop, she had seen her whole family a prey to the 

Attacallaculla, whilst he did every thing in his 
power for her comfort, avoided any allusion to her 
becoming his wife, until time had taken away the 
freshness of those wounds with which her heart was 
bleeding: and when he did at length speak to her of 
love, the marked disgust it inspired was no way flatter- 
ing to his pride, while it gave a new impulse to her 
tide of grief. In time, however, she remembered her 
paternal home as a tale that is told ; — the voices to 
which her ear had in former times vibrated with joy, 
were now still in death ; — and the roof that once echoed 
to their sounds, had been given to the flames. She 
listened to the story of her gallant rescue from the 
tormentors, and was convinced that the noble pulses of 
love and valor might be as strong beneath the skin of 
the red man, as of the white. To Attacallaculla she 
owed her existence — he was of the first among the 
people to whom she was united, with but little to induce 
a desire of severance ; and she at length consented upon 
one condition to become his wife. This condition was 
that they should be married according to the rites of 
her own religion — the holy Catholic faith. 

"A great difficulty was thus thrown in the way of At- 
tacallaculla, but he resolved to surmount it. He set out 
for Charleston, in the State of South Carolina, and soon 
returned, bringing with him a priest of the true faith ; 
who, after having administered to the ghostly comfort 
of Maria, (for that was her name,) united her in the 
holy estate of matrimony with the preserver of her 

M These were the parents of Yenacona. — .Maria 
proved to be no portionless wife to Attacallaculla. All 
the treasures, amounting to a large sum, which had 


been purloined by the Indians from the house of her 
father, were justly declared to be hers, and, among 
them, were the jewels you have seen worn by the Lit- 
tle Deer and myself. — Behold the most precious of 
them all," — she said, applying- her lips to the crucifix; 
" nor must this holy book be forgotten," she added, 
laying her hand on the ancient silver clasped breviary. — 
She paused a moment, and then continued : — 

" For some time happiness, at least on the part of 
Attacallaculla, dwelt in his wigwam, and Maria bore 
her lot with calmness, if not with cheerfulness. My 
birth gave rise to the first difference between them — my 
father insisting on my bearing the name of Yenacona, 
in honor of a Cherokee festival, so called, during which 
I came into existence, and my mother preferring the 
Christian one, and her own, of Maria. But her gentle 
spirit was forced to yield, and, painful as it was, she 
allowed her daughter to be called by the heathen name 
of Yenacona. 

"A difference of a more serious character followed a 
few years afterwards. My father, according to the prac- 
tice of his people, who see no impropriety in polygamy, 
desired to increase his household with another wife. 
My mother was of course shocked at the proposal, and 
did every thing in her power to prevent this overthrow 
of her peace ; but her efforts were unavailing, and, the 
same day that another wife was introduced into the 
wigwam of Attacallaculla, Maria left it a homeless 

" Toleniska was indignant at the conduct of his brother, 
and took me to his own wigwam, where he treated me 
with a father's tenderness, Attacallaculla being too 
much interested in his new connexion to concern him- 
self much respecting either my mother or myself. For 
some years I lived in as much comfort in the house of 
my uncle as my family afflictions would allow. I had 
a distinct and kind remembrance of my absent parent, 
and felt the most anxious solicitude respecting her fate. 
Nor was I indifferent to my father, whose neglect dis- 


tressed and mortified me. But Toleniska did all in his 
power to win me from the remembrance of my sor- 
rows, and direct, to new objects, the affections of my 
heart. His efforts were at first kind and well directed, 
but false notions of the character and rights of our ill- 
fated sex, often lead those to whose care it is committed, 
in zeal for its supposed welfare and happiness, to prac- 
tice upon it the most intolerable cruelty. The stream 
of existence which would probably have otherwise 
flowed peacefully in an onward course, is, by ill-judged 
interference, turned out of its regular current, deviating 
first to the right, and then to the left, encountering ob- 
stacles against which it chafes and lashes, and agitated, 
turbid and muddy, it rushes headlong with accelerated 
impetuosity to the end of its troubled course." 

She ceased for a moment, and seemed lost in reflec- 



And when they trac'd hy that sad light 
The scone of that unfinish'd rite, 
And many a look uncertain cast, 
The stranger and the child had past. 


"What would have been the tenor of Yenacona's 
life," she at length proceeded, " but for the ill-advised 
solicitude of Toleniska in her behalf, it is impossible to 
know; but that gave direction to all its subsequent des- 
tiny, and heaped upon her distresses which few could 
have borne. 

" The attack suffered by the Cherokees, already men- 
tioned, in their passage through Virginia, had so exas- 
perated them, that frequent skirmishes from thenceforth 
took place between them and the whites, in which a 
conspicuous part was taken by Toleniska, Eonah, (the 
chief of the Eonee,) and Soquilla, (a distinguished man 
among the people of Sugar Town.) These were con- 
tinued for ten or twelve years, until the boundary line, 
eastward of the Indian hunting grounds, was run by 
Tryon, the Governor, or as he was called by the red 
men, the Great Wolf of North Carolina. Then, as 
they say, the tomahawk was buried, and the peace pipe 
was smoked by the red men with their white brothers. 

" An intimacy of the closest kind sprung up in the 
meantime among these three chiefs, and I frequently 
saw Eonah and Soquilla at the wigwam of Toleniska. 
Soquilla was already an old man, older than either 
Eonah or Toleniska ; but he cast eyes of love upon 
the young Yenacona, almost as soon as she had passed 
the age of childhood. Strange as it may seem, it met 
the wishes of Toleniska, that she should become his wife, 


and they did not think it necessary to inquire whether 
or not it was acceptable to her. Without consulting 
her it was settled between them, that whenever she 
should attain sufficient age, she was to become the wife 
of Soquilla. Soquilla did not neglect means to make 
himself agreeable to Yenacona, and she was not igno- 
rant of his expectations: but delicacy and diffidence 
prevented her from speaking of what was never dis- 
tinctly proposed to her. Perhaps she was to blame in 
not boldly avowing her determination never to become 
the wife of Soquilla. — By it she might have been 
saved much sorrow; but maidenly modesty is her only 

" Time passed on, and Soquilla demanded that he 
might lead Yenacona to his wigwam as his wife. To- 
leniska assented, and then, for the first time, the pro- 
posal was formally made her. A prompt negative was 
her unexpected answer, and both Toleniska and So- 
quilla were petrified with surprise ; — for the Cherokee 
girls are wont to submit very implicitly in these mat- 
ters to the wishes of their friends. The latter com- 
plained of ill-usage in having his suit so long enter- 
tained to be at last dismissed, while the former talked 
much of parental authority, and the duty of obedience. 
Both chiefs were violent and passionate, and I was seri- 
ously alarmed for the consequences. 

" I was no longer safe in my uncle's house, and I 
knew it would be vain to seek an asylum in that of 
my father. All the tenderness of love for my mother 
awoke in my young heart, and I thought of the mater- 
nal bosom as my only place of refuge. It was but the 
day before this crisis in my affairs, that I had providen- 
tially learned she was in Charleston, under the guar- 
dianship of the priest by whom she was married to my 
father. There 1 determined to seek her, and share her 
lot for good or for evil 5 and escaping, without suspi- 
cion, from those who might be disposed to detain me, I 
followed the same tedious and difficult road my poor 
mother had trodden years before, and reached Charleston, 


" I had no difficulty in finding a person so conspi- 
cuous as the worthy priest, and was by him quickly 
conducted to the arms of my parent. Here an entirely 
new scene of existence opened upon me, and over- 
whelmed me with surprise and pleasure. I beheld 
things more wonderful and delightful than it had ever 
entered into my imagination to conceive. No pains 
were spared to effect my rapid improvement in mind, 
body, and soul. I was carefully instructed in the holy 
mysteries of the Catholic faith, and baptized — Maria, 
(after my mother.) I was soon thought fit to mingle in 
the very superior society of which my mother formed 
a part, and curiosity (for I can attribute it to nothing 
higher) rendered me rather recherche. 

" There was a calm gravity in the manner of my mo- 
ther, but she was quite cheerful, and enjoyed, apparently, 
a share of happiness. Her circumstances were easy, hav- 
ing been rendered so by the disinterested kindness of the 
priest, who, by relating her singular and interesting 
story, obtained for her large contributions from the libe- 
ral and benevolent, among whom were persons distantly 
related to her exterminated family. From being an ob- 
ject of compassion, she became one of esteem and admi- 
ration as her acquaintance extended, and several advan- 
tageous offers were not wanting to her for marriage. 
But although she did not assign that as the reason for 
her refusal, she still considered herself as the wife of 
Attacallaculla, and nothing could have tempted her dur- 
ing his life into another alliance, although now that I, 
the only circumstance which had ever called her heart 
back to the Indian country, had found my way to her, 
she considered her intercourse with it forever at an end. 
That indeed was my belief concerning myself, and al- 
though we occasionally adverted to persons and things 
familiar to us in my native land, it was as we would 
allude to those in a far away country to which it were 
madness to think of vision extending, or the faintest 
sound coming from it. 

" For myself I had never until then known any thing 


of happiness, when my delighted spirit was bathing 
in its deepest sea. Desires were formed only to be 
gratified, and the world was to me not less beautiful 
than when, fresh from the hand of its Creator, it spread 
out in glory before the first of the human race. I flew, 
like the wanton butterfly, from one to another of the 
flowers by which I was surrounded, and rifled their 
sweets. But the pleasures I tasted were those of inno- 
cence only, and I knew neither surfeit nor weariness. 
My spirit was as pure as the blue air above me, and 
scarcely less elastic. The mere sense of existence was 
a source of more exquisite delight than the wicked have 
in their wildest dissipations, for it was mingled with 
gratitude to the Being who gave it. I rejoiced in the 
creatures of God as sharers with myself in his paternal 
love. I advanced rapidly to the very acme of human 
bliss, only to realize its transitory nature, and witness 
its departure like a dream of the morning. 

" The visiters at my mother's house were principally 
families of a common origin with herself, that is, French, 
and among them was a young man called Israel , De 
Lisle. — I have said there was once a manly brow as 
pale as thine, around which clustered the brown locks 
of Europe — they are yet fresh in the memory of Yena- 
cona. — But the worm has fed sweetly on that brow — and 
the grave has swallowed up the heart of Yenacona. — 
Did I speak of Israel De Lisle ? — Pardon me — it was a 
dream — it was a vision which my bewildered fancy is 
forever chasing through the fields of air, but can never 
overtake it. — A gay young Frenchman — no! he was 
not gay — there was sadness in his countenance — and, 
oh ! was there not pathos in his voice when he spoke 
of love to Yenacona 1 ? But it is past! Tell me, Mr. 
Aymor, do men love like women? — I cannot tell. Is- 
rael De Lisle told me that he loved — and the heart of 
Yenacona I know not if Yenacona has a heart." — 

Gideon again discovered a fire, like that of madness, 
kindling in her eye, and whether or not his looks 
evinced his thoughts, she stopped and collected herself. — 


"Mr. Aymor," she continued, after a pause, "you 
think that my mind is wandering — and you are right — 
but He whose spirit moved upon that deep where dark- 
ness had brooded from everlasting, and said, ' Let there 
be light, and there was light,' can quiet in a moment 
the most troubled spirit. — There," said she, kissing 
her crucifix, "it is done;" and then proceeded with 
composure : — " Israel De Lisle and Yenacona were 
married, and in the splendid cathedral, whose pealing 
organ made its heavy arches ring with the sounds of 
solemn mirth, the descendant of barbarian Kings was 
united by a holy sacrament with one in whose veins, in 
all probability, ran the blood of some ancient sovereign 
of the most polished nation upon earth. — He was all 
that my heart could wish, and my cup of happiness, 
before nearly full, was now overflowing. He was not 
only young, handsome, and amiable, but wealthy and 
talented also ; and although a Frenchman by family, 
was himself a native of Charleston, and attached to the 
existing Government of the country of his birth. 

" Disaffection to the parent country, as it was called, 
was, however, widely prevailing in the British Ameri- 
can Colonies, and resistance to some of the measures of 
the Government had already taken place. South Caro- 
lina was a partaker with other States in this feeling of 
insubordination, and Lord William Campbell, the then 
Colonial Governor, was desirous to defeat by any 
means in his power the plans of the opponents of Go- 
vernment. To give them full employment then, in 
defending themselves against a dangerous enemy in 
their own neighborhood, he resorted to stirring up the 
bordering Indian tribes, among whom suitable agents 
were sent for the purpose. The talents and ambition 
of De Lisle, connected with his known attachment to 
the existing Government, together with his alliance by 
marriage with the Cherokee tribe, pointed him out as 
one who might be advantageously employed in that 
quarter. His acceptance of the trust was a fatal shock 
to the new found happiness of Yenacona and her mother 

VOL. II. 8. 


But De Lisle had hastily given his promise to Lord 
William Campbell, and in those mistaken notions of 
honor, natural to youth, could not think of retracting-, 
whatever difficulties or improprieties might lie in the 
way of the fulfilment of his undertaking. 

" We took leave of my afflicted mother, and set out 
with our infant, but a few months old, for the Indian 
country. We arrived at this place, where De Lisle 
opened a small store for the professed purpose of tra- 
ding with the Indians, and erected our house with the 
avowed intention of making a permanent residence. — 
The grand-daughter of the recently dead Moytoy was 
received with enthusiasm among his devoted peo- 
ple, and her husband came at once into their esteem 
and confidence. My uncle Toleniska was rejoiced to 
see me once more, forgiving all that was past, while 
our little George, called by him and the rest of the In- 
dians, Oocomoo, became the darling of his heart. My 
father received us coldly, and never deigned to make 
any inquiry after my mother. The proud and pas- 
sionate Soquilla did not condescend to speak to me. 

" De Lisle was but too successful in his embassy, and 
for many months the white inhabitants of the States of 
North and South Carolina, and Georgia, bordering on 
the Cherokee country, were harassed with the most 
frequent and distressing visitations of savage warfare, 
until, stung to madness, they determined to destroy at 
once the whole tribe, as they would have done a hoard 
of venomous insects. 

" General Griffith Rutherford, of North Carolina, 
with Colonel Williamson, of South Carolina, were en- 
gaged in the performance of the deed ; and, although 
not consummated to the full, terrible was the chastise- 
ment inflicted upon the deluded Indians. — The Chero- 
kee nation gathered their warriors to make a stand for 
their frontier, and, consequently, most exposed villages. 
Amongst them was Etchoe, and, after several skirmishes 
and battlesj here a formidable and most decisive strug- 
gle took place between the whites and the red men. 


De Lisle could not desert those whom he had lead into 
danger, and accordingly aided their operations, not 
only by his counsel, but his bravery, and accompanied 
them wherever his services could be most advanta- 

11 1 had already sacrificed too much to my affection 
for De Lisle, to allow him to leave me behind, while 
engaged in this enterprise, and perhaps moved by a 
sort of instinct of the race from which I was in part 
descended, I took my infant and bore him as I followed 
the footsteps of his father. 

" We were in Etchoe when the place was assailed. — 
Men, Mr. Aymor, may love the sounds of battle, and 
delight to bathe their footsteps in blood — but there is 
nothing in woman to sustain her courage amid the ter- 
rifying clamor of war — or to relieve the sickening horror 
with which she beholds the mangled remains of hun- 
dreds of her species. — What think you then must have 
been my situation amid the deafening din of that awful 
hour — while my husband — my father — and my uncle, 
were among those engaged in mortal strife — where 
neither the helplessness of my sex, nor the infancy of my 
child, were any security against violence from men of 
blood, roused by repeated outrage into frantic fury ? I 
will not attempt to paint the horrors of my condition, 
to which no language could do justice. 

" At length intelligence was brought me that De 
Lisle was taken prisoner. I had been made perfectly 
acquainted by himself with the perilous condition in 
which he would stand, should the event occur, of which 
I was just informed; and it was principally for this 
reason I had insisted on following him, hoping that 
I might under Providence, be the means of saving 
him from so dreadful a fate. He could expect nothing 
less, (he had told me) than that his life would be 
speedily and ignominiously ended by his enraged coun- 

" Entirely forgetful for the moment of my child, and 
filled with the wildest alarm for the condition of my 


husband, I flew in the direction where I thought there 
was most prospect of finding him, with the gloomy hope 
that if I could not save I might at least comfort him by 
my presence. By making hurried inquiries of all I 
met, whether friend or foe, I arrived at length where a 
group of white persons were assembled, busily engaged, 
and although they were armed, Mr. Aymor, it was no 
soldiery employment that occupied them. — I cast my 
eye upwards — and a rope was dangling from the limb 
of a tree — and I saw that it had been newly cut with a 
knife. — It was enough — I read from thence a tale of 
horror, and sunk senseless upon the body of my hus- 

" Mr. Aymor, do you now wonder that this brain is 
fevered % — Are you not rather surprised that the wretch- 
ed wife of Israel De Lisle was ever separated alive from 
his murdered corpse ? — But He who tempers the wind 
to the shorn lamb, enables the frailest of his creatures 
to bear all that may be necessary for the fulfilment of 
his own inscrutable purposes ; and I have escaped with 
life from what might have crushed thousands of stouter 
hearts, to endure a complication of calamities ; and for 
thirty years that sickening fluctuation of hope and de- 
spair, which wears away the sufferer, like a moth fret- 
ting a garment." 

She paused, closed her eyes, and lifting them towards 
Heaven — remained for a few moments uttering some- 
thing in whispered accents, which was probably not in- 
tended for the ear of Gideon ; then kissing her crucifix 
most devoutly — proceeded : — 

" I know not how long I may have remained in a 
state of insensibility, but when I recovered I was among 
strangers, whom I knew to be some of Rutherford's 
army. My hair, as they told me, had changed during 
my mental absence, (which lasted two or three days,) 
from its native blackness to the snowy color in which 
you behold it, (releasing as she spoke one of her tresses 
from its confinement.) I inquired after my husband, 
and, in a compassionate manner, which checked a hatred 


of my species, at that time growing up in my heart, a 
soldier informed me, with tears in his eyes, that 4 1 need 
not be so cast down, for they had not left the brave fellow 
a prey to the birds and the beasts, but had buried him 
as became a soldier fighting in a better cause.' I beg 
ged to be directed to the melancholy spot. ■ I fear, poor 
woman,' said he, ' that you will never find it, but if Bob 
Aymor was a freeman instead of a sergeant in Captain 
Lenoir's company, he would lead you to it as straight as 
an #rrow ; but although I can never bear the tears of a 
woman, I can hardly venture the risk of being shot as 
a deserter for the sake of them. — Besides, should I 
encounter a party of your friends they would scarcely 
spare me for being engaged in an act of kindness to 
you.— But I will give you the best directions in my 
power, and God grant that you may succeed, for I know 
it will be a satisfaction to your poor heart, even to look 
once more upon the spot where he lies. — Come, cheer 
up, and take a sup from my canteen ; it will quicken 
your comprehension, and you will be the better able 
to understand my directions, and, besides, something 
stronger to follow them.' 

" I accepted the courtesy of the kind soldier, partly 
because I felt conscious that I would be benefited by 
something of a cordial nature, and partly because I saw 
that by so doing I should gratify the benevolent feelings 
of the generous man, who took so unaffected an inte- 
rest in my afflictions. He then, with a great deal of 
pains, endeavored to make me understand the direc- 
tion I should take in my search for my husband's 
grave; and after having been, as I supposed, instructed 
beyond the possibility of mistake, I set out, without any 
effort being made to detain me. I had gone some dis- 
tance, when, looking back, I saw the tall soldier lean- 
ing upon the muzzle of his musket, while his left cheek 
reclined upon his hand, in the very spot where I had 
left him, pensively contemplating me as I departed. 

" This explains to you, Mr. Aymor, in part, the in- 
terest I have taken in all that concerns you since I 


learned your name, and have found in you the son of 
the kind soldier ; and although you cannot be said to be 
like him, there is something in the expression of your 
countenance that awakens the recollection of him in 
a heart where his memory is so indelibly engraven. 

" But to return to my gloomy narrative — my search 
was fruitless for the grave of my husband — often did I 
say in my heart, with Mary Magdalen at the sepulchre 
of our Lord — ' Tell me where thou hast laid him, and 
I will take him away.' But there was no voice to an- 
swer me in the depth of the solitudes where I sought 
him. It is, perhaps, well that I found him not. The 
cause in which he died did not prosper, and Fame only 
decks with her trophies the brow of the living and the 
tomb of the dead, when success points her to the ob- 
ject. But Infamy has lifted the name of De Lisle to 
no bad eminence. — Forgotten, like the spot of his 
burial, by all save one in whose heart his memory is 
yet freshly preserved in the balm of connubial affec- 
tion, he sleeps in a quiet upon which even the orflcious- 
ness of love may not intrude, until that great day when 
the same voice which spake the earth into existence, 
shall call upon her to yield up her dead." 

The grief of the speaker seemed for a moment to 
have lost its agony : and, with a melancholy smile, she 
wiped away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. 

" The first act in my tragic life is ended, Mr. Ay- 
mor ;" she said — " allow me to suspend a moment the 
narration of the melancholy events which have made 
me what you see." She poured a few drops of harts- 
horn into a tumbler, and adding to it a little water, 
drank it off as a needful cordial. 

" When I had become weary and desperate," she pro- 
ceeded, " in my search for the grave of his father, the 
child of Israel De Lisle rushed upon my thoughts for 
the first time since I had left him at Etchoe, and I turn- 
ed with a mother's apprehensions from the husband, 
whom I knew to be dead, to the child, whom I trusted 
was still living. Exhausted as I was, I made what 


haste I could towards Etchoe, and soon discovered, what 
had before escaped my observation — a huge volume of 
smoke rolling- up towards Heaven. — ' It is the smoking 
remnants of the wig-warns of the people of Etchoe,' I 
said to myself — ' which, some hours since, have been 
given to the flames by the veng-eance of the white 
people ;' — for althoug-h there was still a large quantity 
of smoke, it was evidently of that kind which rises 
when the process of combustion is nearly completed, 
and not such as is sent up from fiercely raging- flames. 
My next apprehension was that my poor infant, who 
had been left by its mother amid a multitude of dangers, 
had perished in its helplessness, and that the consuming 
element had snatched from me even the sad consola- 
tion of beholding his remains. With a highly excited 
imagination I hastened forward to witness a scene of 
awful devastation, and my heart almost died within 
me when I beheld it. But the purpose upon which I 
was so anxiously bent, of finding some clue to the fate 
of my lost child, sustained me. 

" The village of Etchoe was, as I had anticipated, scat- 
tered piles of smoking ruins, and around and within it 
lay mingled the bodies of white men and Indians, in all 
the various attitudes in which death had taken or placed 
them. Among these horror-striking objects my search 
necessarily lead me. Some of the bodies I found yet 
warm with recent life, while others were stark and cold ; 
in not one of them was there any lingering of vitali- 
ty, but along a stream of water flowing near the vil- 
lage a row of poor wretches, v/ith their faces to the 
ground, and some of them, lying even in the stream 
itself, indicated with painful certainty that they had 
dragged themselves, with their expiring strength, to the 
cool gurgling brook, with the vain hope of slaking that 
burning thirst by which the death wounded are said to 
be tortured. Within the village the half-roasted bodies 
sent forth a smell so nearly resembling that with which 
my nostrils had been so often regaled from the smoking 
board, that I almost fainted with sickening disgust. — 


But I pursued my search until I came to a warrior, 
whose forehead, cleft by a tomahawk, showed through 
its yawning chasm the soft white brain. — My eye rested 
for a moment on his features, and nature made her ap- 
peal to my heart. — It was Attacallaculla — it was my 
father. — I sunk down beside him, and the scenes of 
other years came freshly before me. — I melted into ten- 
derness, and kissed, in the bitterness of affectionate grief, 
the icy lips of my stern parent. 

" While I was pouring out my filial sorrows over 
the body of Attacallaculla, a party of Cherokees had re- 
turned to the village, seizing the first favorable occasion 
to recover and dispose of their dead. . I was startled by 
their whoop, which was immediately followed by the 
loud flapping of the wings of myriads of vultures, as 
they arose, affrighted from their loathsome repast. 

"One common receptacle was prepared for all the frag- 
ments of mortality scattered around us, save the scalps 
of the white men, which were borne away as trophies ; 
and, yielding to a necessity I could not resist, I took a 
final embrace of the remains of my Indian parent, and 
beheld them deposited, to mingle with the dust both of 
those who had been his friends and those who had been 
his enemies in life. 

" This party of Cherokees was commanded by Eonah, 
who kindly took me under his protection, and, after 
diligent inquiries for my lost child, as fruitless as had 
been the search for the grave of my husband, I returned 
to the banks of the Tennessee River. Your father I 
found was a prisoner to Eonah's party, and I vainly en- 
treated for his liberty. Finding that I had nothing to 
hope from interference in his behalf, I left him to his 
fate, and proceeded to my cheerless home, widowed and 

" I had not formed plans for my future life, when a 
messenger brought me word that my poor mother, hav- 
ing heard of the tragic events I have just described, 
sickened, and in a few hours expired. 

" The only voice whose call might have attracted me 



from these scenes of painful interest, being now hushed 
forever, nothing- remained to me but to linger about this 
spot, hallowed by the last months of the life of my la- 
mented husband, and where I should be most likely to 
recover, or at least to gather tidings of the fate of my lost 
child. Here, years have passed away, and I have been 
constantly agitated between hope and despair ; — some- 
times hearing that my infant had cruelly perished, and 
again that he is alive and prosperous. On the evening 
of your arrival, I believed him recently slain by Eone- 
guski, and the last messenger, whose coming has so 
affected me, brings word that he is yet alive, but no one 
knows where." 

11 He is alive," said Gideon, abruptly. 

" Heaven bless you !" said Yenacona, eagerly spring- 
ing up, and seizing upon Gideon — " Have you seen 

" Seen him," replied Gideon, " I have known him 
from my infancy." 

" Where is he ? — Merciful Heaven tell me where?" 
cried Yenacona, almost frantic. 

" That is more than I am able to do. — I am myself 
partly in search of him," said Gideon, as Yenacona 
threw herself in her seat with an air of disappointment. 

He then proceeded to relate all 4ie knew of the person 
whom he supposed to be her son. 

" It is he!" she exclaimed, "it can be no other, for 
your story corresponds with what was told me by the 
cruel Soquilla." 

She now urged Gideon, by the most powerful appeals 
to his humanity, his professions of regard for her, and 
his love to the Little Deer, to return to the Homony as 
soon as he had discharged his obligation to Eoneguski, 
by being present at the funeral of Eonah, and make 
diligent search for Oocomoo, and apprise him where he 
might find a mother, anxiously longing to embrace 



Her child was gone — her cry was vain — 
And fev'rish madness fir'd her brain. 


The story of Yenacona awakened in the bosom of 
Gideon a new interest in behalf of John Welch, whom 
he was now more willing than ever to see the husband 
of his sister, descended as he believed him to be from 
the blood of Europe combined with that of the royal 
stock of the Oewoehee. Nor did it fail, together with the 
farther information he obtained, to place the Little Deer 
upon more elevated ground than she had hitherto occu- 
pied in his estimation. It threw around her romantic 
associations, to which the heart of no lover is indifferent, 
and her relationship to Welch gave her a claim, to 
respect somewhat upon the score of family connexion. 

The same day of his interview with Yenacona, 
Gideon, having renewed his application for her as- 
sistance, and taken leave of her and the Little Deer, 
departed for Eonee. While he is engaged in this 
journey, we will take occasion more fully to complete 
the story of Yenacona, and relate some other matters 
which ought properly to precede the funeral of Eonah. 
After the battle of Etchoe, Yenacona, so far as she 
knew, was without a relation in the world, except 
Ooconoota, a son of her father by his last wife, and she 
spent her time in brooding over her afflictions, or in acts 
of penance or charity, according to the faith she pro- 
fessed, until she became quite fanatical, and occasionally 
her mind was wild and fanciful, if not actually derang- 
ed. Slight circumstances were now and then commu- 
nicated to her, that induced a faint hope that her child 


might yet be alive, and again the spark thus kindled 
would be more hopelessly than ever extinguished. 

At length a celebrated Saga was settled at Sugar 
Town, coming from a far country, having power to 
bring to light the most secret things, and she was urged 
by many to apply to him for intelligence of her son. — 
Her Christian principles opposed any application to a 
soothsayer, as such, but she naturally conjectured that 
the supposed Saga had supplied himself with extensive 
means of intelligence, that might, perchance, reach 
to the fact of which she was in search, and, yielding 
to persuasions of which she was almost daily the sub- 
ject, she determined to repair to the wigwam of the 

Her ancient admirer, Soquilla, had been gloomy, 
discontented, and misanthropic, from the time that Ye- 
nacona had fled to avoid him, and so frequently acted 
with cruelty and violence to those who happened to 
fall into his power, that he had become obnoxious to the 
hatred of almost every individual of his tribe. He was 
among the missing at the battle of Etchoe, and was sup- 
posed to have fallen with the multitudes of the slain in 
that sanguinary contest, and no loss sustained by the 
nation was so little regretted, if it was not to many a 
subject of rejoicing. But Yenacona was not one of 
those who rejoiced; she had been harassed, it was true, 
by his unwelcome addresses, and subjected to great in- 
convenience to avoid them, but that inconvenience had 
led her to the only brief scenes of happiness she had 
enjoyed in this fluctuating life ; and now that Soquilla 
was no more, she remembered him as one who had 
loved her well, if not wisely, and assigned him a place 
among the many whose fate she deplored. 

But thoughts of every thing but her lost child 
were banished from her mind, when she visited the 
Saga, with the faint hope of learning something con- 
solatory respecting him. She was alone, and, walking 
up to the closed door of his wigwam, gave a timid 
irresolute knock. For some time she waited in anx- 


ious expectation before the door was opened, although 
her knock was repeated more than once. At length 
she was admitted, and trembled with agitation as she 
found herself alone, with one, of whom she had 
heard such wonderful things, though she had not here- 
tofore credited the half. His face and person were so 
enveloped as to defy scrutiny, while, through a mask 
he wore, he could uninterruptedly speculate on the looks 
and actions of the person before him. 

She was speechless, and almost ready to sink, when, 
to add to her painful impressions, the Saga, in a strange 
unearthly voice, addressed her in a sort of wild blank 
verse, which, as heretofore, we have endeavored to par- 
aphrase in rhyme. 

Gentle mortal, speak thy thought 
To the list'ning Saga's ear ; 
If Fate's mysteries are sought, 
Wisely hast thou ventur'd here. 

Stay ! thou needs't not speak thy thought, 
Visions crowd upon my view — 
A long lost infant here is sought — 
A mother's tears thy cheeks bedew. 

"Hold!" cried Yenacona, in outraged piety. — "I 
am a worshipper of the true God, and am not to be 
cheated with the jugglery which affects to pry into his 
inscrutable mysteries, otherwise than under the guidance 
of his own Holy Spirit. I doubt not you are wise, 
and I perceive that I am not unknown to you. I came 
not for information, as relying on the heathenish inspi- 
ration of which you boast, but taking it for granted that, 
for the purpose of sustaining the reputation of your 
art, you have provided yourself with extensive sources 
of information, I trusted it might be in your power, 
through natural means, to tell me what of every thing 
earthly it most concerns me to know. I am, indeed, a 
wretched mother, anxiously in search of her long lost 
offspring. Tell me, then, I implore you, if your know- 
ledge extends so far — is my child yet alive ?" 


" Yenacona," said a voice entirely different from that 
which had before spoken, the well remembered tones of 
which thrilled through her whole frame, " hast thou 
ever tasted the sweetness of revenge ?" 

The word "revenge" sounded in her ears as if it 
came from the lips of a demon, and filled her soul 
with chilling - apprehensions; but conscious that the 
crisis called for all her self-possession, she summoned 
it to her aid, and, in her own peculiarly sweet tone of 
voice, "No!" she replied, " the soul of Yenacona has 
never panted with that thirst, which is the torment of 
the wicked. It was in mercy to themselves, as he al- 
ways speaks, that the Everlasting Father hath said to 
his children, ' Vengeance is mine, I will repay.' " 

Ha! ha! ha! rang a wild demoniac laugh through 
the wigwam of the Saga, and he cried, tauntingly, 
" Where are the beautiful black locks of Yenacona ? — - 
and methinks the scalding tear-drop has worn unseem- 
ly furrows in her soft smooth cheek since she despised 
the love of Soquilla. — Tell me, thou beautiful worship- 
per of the true God, what thou wouldst give to embrace 
the lovely boy, for whom thou hast so long gone sor- 

"All that I can command," she said, calmly: "and if 
the wide earth were hers, what mother would refuse to 
exchange it for her only son ?" 

"But," replied the person who addressed her, in 
ironical imitation of her own composed manner, " sup- 
pose you should learn that the flames had devoured the 
infant, into which he was cast, to writhe like a young 
serpent, by one who hated him for the sake of his mo- 
ther; and suppose the wretch (you would call him) 
who had stood by rejoicing while the blood of his young 
heart hissed upon the glowing embers, and his roasting 
limbs sent to his nostrils their savory steams, were given 
up to be dealt with according to your pleasure, would 
not your soul rejoice in the feast of vengeance, as you 
prepared for him unutterable tortures ?" 

" I am sick and horror-stricken at the diabolical 

VOL. II. 9. 


images you have presented to my mind,'' she said ; 
" but such a monster as you have imagined, lives not 
to breathe the pure air of Heaven. Yet, if per- 
chance there should be one who had so injured Yena- 
cona, she would bow herself in humility before her 
Creator, and say — Father forgive him for he knew not 
what he did." 

There was a pause, and at length the voice resumed — 
P Thou speakest as a woman, Yenacona, and knowest 
nothing of the noble passions which stir the soul of a 
warrior. — Thou dreamest not of that joy which moves 
wild laughter in the throat of Soquilla, when he looks 
upon the faded beauty which once drove him to mad- 
ness. — When he thinks upon the dishonorable grave 
of Israel De Lisle — upon the raging flames which 

wrapped the pale body of the young Oocomoo" 

and again the wretch laughed out wildly in joy and 

" Monster !" cried Yenacona, in agony — " Is it true 
you thus murdered my child 2" 

He arose, and grasped her firmly by the arm, and 
leading her to the door of the wigwam, pointed to the 
blue sky above them. — " Does Yenacona," he said, 
solemnly, " believe that the God of the Christians has 
his dwelling place far above us, beyond that beautiful 
arch, where no eye can reach him ?" 

" I believe," replied the unhappy woman, "that the 
God of the Christians dwelleth in light to which no 
human eye can approach." 

" Then it is not less certain," said he, with bitterness, 
" that the hand of Soquilla committed to the flames the 
offspring of De Lisle and the false Yenacona." 

No longer able to doubt the truth of the horrid story, 
the shock of conviction subdued, as by a thunderstroke, 
both the mental and physical powers of Yenacona, and 
she sunk down beside the door way of the Saga, appa- 
rently lifeless. 

" Revenge is sweet," he said, as he bent over her. — 
" Yes, it is true Soquilla did commit the boy to the 


flames, but a meddlesome pale face rescued him — and 
he yet lives. But he lives not for Yenacona, while 
she is ignorant of his life — Hah ! she breathes not — 
she must revive — or the feast of Soquilla's revenue 
will be ended ?" 

He administered to her some one of the numerous 
potions with which he was in the habit of healing 
human maladies, and in a short time she revived, but 
it was with an almost obliterated intellect. She was 
conveyed home, and by slow degrees regained very 
nearly, if not altogether, her original mind. Time 
rolled on, and Ooconoota, the brother of Yenacona, had 
become a father. He died, and left his only daughter 
in the care of her mother. Time still rolled on, and 
the girl had grown to budding womanhood. She had 
seen Eoneguski, the favorite young brave of the Oe- 
woehee, and won his heart. Her lover visited her fre- 
quently at her mother's wigwam, and she was soon to 
become his wife. But death's shafts fly thickly, and 
one of them smote the mother of the Little Deer. 

The benevolent Yenacona beheld her young niece 
an orphan, and felt gushing up from the depths of its 
source the stream of maternal affection, and flowing 
copiously towards the Little Deer. Shyly at first the 
Indian maiden partook of its refreshing waters, until 
gradually becoming emboldened, she threw herself un- 
reservedly into the stream. She was taken to the house 
of her aunt, who availed herself of every opportunity 
of operating upon her religious opinions, and bringing 
her insensibly to abandon the superstitions in which 
she had been brought up, and to embrace the truths of 
Christianity. Eoneguski continued to visit the Little 
Deer after her removal to the dwelling of her aunt, 
and was kindly received by the latter, who had not for- 
gotten the "auld lang syne" kindnesses of Eonah. — 
But in her heart she deprecated that her niece, to whom 
her attachment was daily growing more ardent, should 
become the wife of a heathen. She remembered the 
trials of her mother, but to look more repugnantly upon 


one whom she confidently hoped to make a Christian, 
uniting herself in marriage with a superstitious sav- 

She had made some progress in christianizing the 
mind of the Little Deer, when an unusually long ab- 
sence of Eoneguski afforded her an opportunity of 
suggesting, with much effect, her objections to an union 
with him. We have seen that the mind of the Little 
Deer was embued with a true delicacy, (for Yenacona 
had always given some attention to her training, even 
while she resided in the house of her mother,) which 
revolted at the idea intimated by her aunt, that in mar- 
rying Eoneguski she might be compelled to share her 
husband with another, and this consideration so far 
operated as to induce her to think seriously of a life of 

While Yenacona was so much interested in the Lit- 
tle Deer as to lose for a time the more acute remem- 
brance of her own weighty griefs, and to assume even 
the appearance of cheerfulness, Soquilla, who, although 
he had no opportunities of seeing her, heard frequently 
of her state, of which he diligently inquired on every 
occasion, rejoiced in the intelligence that she was a 
prey to sorrow. As soon, therefore, as he heard of her 
becoming composed and cheerful, with fiendish malig- 
nity, he resolved to stir her grief afresh, and rightly 
judging that what he knew to be true, would be more 
effectual than the most ingenious fabrication, sent her 
word by a confidential agent that her child had wonder- 
fully escaped the flames, and was now a handsome 
young warrior. That he had recently been in the 
Indian country, where he had slain one of the people 
of Eonee, and, being compelled to fly, was pursued 
by Eoneguski, whose known skill and bravery en- 
sured the destruction of the object of his pursuit. — 
Misery again was the lot of Yenacona, and she was 
left to conclude that fate, which had been so long tan- 
talizing her with ever disappointed hopes, must have 
at length completed its work. She mingled her sor- 


rows with those of the Little Deer, who was shocked 
to believe that the son of her aunt had fallen by the 
hands of Eoncguski. But they were both aware of 
the imperativeness of the custom upon which the young 
Indian acted, and his ignorance of their relationship to 
his victim ; and they could not therefore in reason at- 
tach to him any real censure. It was under these 
circumstances that they were so much excited when 
they next saw him, While their violent conflict of feeling, 
prevented, during his brief stay, any explanation. 



There is no pow'r within my soul, 
My arm or weapon to control — 
Sunken and cold ; but it may rise 
"With my lost tribe's last battle cries, 
And death will come, like the last play 
Of lightning in a stormy sea. 


Tragedy is confessedly, when well executed, the 
highest effort of genius ; and the polished mind is dis- 
tinguished from the vulgar by its preference for scenes 
that stir the deeper passions, over those which excite 
only laughter and the sense of the ridiculous. The 
tone of mind in which a fellow creature approaches 
nature's last trial, is an infallible subject of interested 
observation. The fear of death is the common weak- 
ness of our race, and none are more ashamed of it than 
those who are most conscious of its existence. The 
coward is equally interested with the brave man in 
the character of his species, and feels not less proud 
than he at beholding another vindicating its honor by a 
triumph over the tyrant who fills his own bosom with 
the most servile apprehensions, and is no less ready 
with his offering of grateful admiration. On the other 
hand, he is no less indignant at any exhibition of un- 
manly weakness in encountering the foe from whom 
there is no retreat, although he may be conscious at the 
same time that his own conduct would be more pusil- 

In addition to these causes of exciting interest in the 
contemplation of a scene of death, there is a conscious- 
ness, scarcely perceived, that the mind thus occupied is 
engaged in a most useful exercise. Man instinctively 


feels that the day with him for which all other days 
were made, is the day of death, and that he is destined 
at last to enter the arena with that champion before 
whom the heroes of all ages have fallen. Like Julius 
Caesar, every man would like to die with decency, 
and there is an elevation produced, which enables 
one to copy while he admires the noble bearing of a 
brave spirit in its conflict with death ; while the ridicu- 
lous and graceless carriage of cowardice excites con- 
tempt, and repels from imitation. These are probably 
some, if not all the secrets of tragic pleasure, and of the 
elevated rank of tragic composition. 

To two scenes of death we are invited in this chapter, 
with such moral improvements as each reader may for 
himself deduce from them. 

The wounded Saga, whom we left at Sugar Town, 
was, as we have seen, the same person with Soquilla, 
the early admirer of Yenacona — and according to 
his own admission, had been led by a spirit of re- 
venge to a most fiendish act. After this he disappeared 
from amongst the Cherokees, and, travelling through 
distant tribes, collected information to fit him for the 
part he subsequently acted. He returned to his own 
country in disguise, and under the assumed name 
of Susquanannacunahata, or the Long Blanket. He 
was really an old man, but violent passions had done 
more than time to give him the appearance of extreme 

An accomplice was necessary for his success in the 
character of a prophet, and he determined to confide in 
his old friend Eonah, to whom he could render himself 
useful when his influence should be established as a 
prophet and physician. He was not disappointed ; for 
Eonah, a good deal embarrassed from time to time by 
the ambitious plans of Chuheluh, and with his seditious 
practices, was very willing to avail himself of such a 
means of influence over the public mind as the scheme 
of Soquilla afforded. Eonah was accordingly the first 
to offer to the foreign Saga, who had deigned to settle 


amongst the Cherokees, marks of respect and confidence 
in his sacred character — and we have already seen with 
how much fidelity he was repaid. 

For some days after the Saga was wounded, as we 
have described, he was nearly insensible, and it was 
plain he could not long survive. The day was one 
of those which Spring sometimes borrows from Sum- 
mer, like a jewel in an Ethiop's ear, ten-fold more 
beautiful from contrast. 

" Raise the casement," said the Saga, in a faint voice, 
to Wissa, who, with the power of speech seemed to have 
recovered that of hearing also — "and let the fresh air 
breathe upon the fevered cheek of the dying. — This is 
the day," he continued, " on which the Oewoehee cele- 
brate the Bath of Herbs. — It will be the last day of the 
life of Susquanannacunahata. — This day four hundred 
and thirty moons ago, Soquilla beheld Yenacona for the 
first time, at the Bath of Herbs. — The day of the Bath 
of Herbs has been an evil day to Susquanannacuna- 
hata. — When there is no more breath in the body 
of Susquanannacunahata," he said, addressing Wissa — 
" fly to Tesumtoe, and whisper in the ear of Yenacona, 
that Soquilla is no more — tel] her that Oocomoo is yet 
alive, and that the hands of Eoneguski are unstained 
with his blood." 

He then fell into a state of insensibility, in which he 
remained for some hours. Towards evening the roar 
of an approaching storm was heard from a distance — it 
drew nearer — and at length came onward with fearful 
fury and rapidity. 

" It is the voice of the Death Angel!" said the Saga, 
starting in alarm — " and my spirit must take its flight 
upon his dark broad wing. — Dark ! did I say 1 — There 
will be a dazzling brightness in the wing of the angel, 
when mounted by Susquanannacunahata — and there 
shall be glorious splendor in the departure of the 
Saga. — Hark ! — do you not hear the rumbling of the 
wheels of his chariot, as it approaches?" 

The wind now roared fiercely through the mountain 


hollows — -" Depart from me," said the Saga — " for no 
eye must look upon the death struggle of the great 
Prophet and Medicine." Wissa knew not how to act. 
" Depart, I say ;" — repeated the Saga. 

Wissa left the hut, but had not progressed far in the 
open air, when, in an instant, he felt a tumultuous rush- 
ing of the blood towards his brain, as if seeking for 
itself an outlet from his ears, and before his mind could 
answer itself the hasty question — " What does this 
mean V — it lost the consciousness of its own being. 
This was probably the joint effect of intense light and 
a violent concussion of the atmosphere, which deprived 
Wissa, for a time, of sense and motion. But a tor- 
rent of rain descended upon 'him, and waked up his dor- 
mant faculties to a scene filling him with amazement 
and horror. 

The wigwam of the Saga was in bright conflagra- 
tion, and, regardless of the fast falling rain, in which 
the clouds seemed to be emptying themselves in cata- 
racts, the flames each moment gathered additional fury. 
He approached the hut, but a dense sulphurous vapor, 
issuing from it, mingled with liquid fire, drove him back 
in despair. He sought assistance from the tenants of 
the neighboring huts, and they readily enough encoun- 
tered the storm ; but when they reached the late sanctu- 
ary of the Saga, it was only to look on in consternation, 
while the flames blazed out in every direction, roaring 
in defiance of any who might desire to subdue them, 
and leaping and quivering as if eager to seize on those 
who should be rash enough to approach them. In a 
few minutes the wigwam of the Saga of Sugar Town 
was an heap of ashes, and nothing could be distinguish- 
ed as the remains of its late aged inhabitant, unless it 
were a portion of ashes about the place where the bed 
once was, whose chalky whiteness indicated that they 
might be the residuum of human bones. 

The storm now ceased, and the sun burst forth upon 
the scene, smiling thereon as in approbation or mockery. 
Wissa looked on for a time in melancholy silence, and 


then turned, with a sigh, to bear his master's last mes- 
sage to her who had so unwillingly been the ruling 
spirit of his destiny. 

Eonah, who, when left by the Saga, had lingered 
on from hour to hour, each, to all human appear- 
ance, his last, until the day whose evening storm has 
so much affected many of the characters of our story, 
was then just ready to take his flight to the world of 
spirits. Yet the storm affected not him. It passed over 
him unmoved by its wind and unshaken by its thunder. 
But when all was once more quiet, the resplendent rain- 
bow glowing in the East, threw its prismatic glories full 
before the eyes of Eonah, and renewed for a time their 
faded vision. He gazed intently on the lovely meteor, 
until the Heaven-wrought picture faded from the cloud. 

Eoneguski called softly the name of his father, but 
there was no voice in answer — he looked upon his face, 
and all there was still. There was no speculation be- 
neath the motionless eyelids. He closed them with a 
gentle hand — and the young chief stood alone by the 
corpse of his father. 



Seek we thy once loved home ? — 

The hand is gone that cropp'd its flowers — ■ 

Cold is the hearth within the bowers. 

And should we thither roam, 

Its echo and its empty tread 

Would sound like voices from the dead. 


In every age and country honor to the dead hath 
been ranked among the works of piety, however wide 
may have been the differences in their modes of show- 
ing it. The pyramids and obelisks of Egypt yet stand 
as wondrous and stupendous monuments of their vene- 
ration for the departed, to say nothing of the laborious 
and ingenious exertions by which they endeavored to 
rescue the frail body itself from the grasp of corruption. 
The scorched inhabitant of India testifies, in various 
ways, his fond recollection of those who were dear to 
him in life, and sometimes even by annihilating the 
distinction between them. Solemn and affecting were 
the rites with which the ancient Hebrews commit- 
ted their deceased brethren to the earth, and said to 
the departing spirit, " Go in peace." In Greece and 
Rome, games and other expensive marks of respect per- 
petuated, for ages, the memory of the dead. And among 
the wild aborigines of our own land, simple expressions 
of regret are offered for departed relations, while their 
graves are approached with the most sacred awe, and 
time, in his flight, is not suffered to efface them. 

Gideon arrived at Eonee at the expected time, with- 
out any thing remarkable having befallen him on his 
journey. He was cordially received by Eoneguski, 
whose countenance wore an expression of sadness, but 
there were no extravagant indications of grief. Gideon 


felt a little conscience smitten by the frank manner of 
the generous savage, whose confidence he was abusing, 
but endeavored to bear himself as if nothing had hap- 

The body of Eonah, arrayed in the best apparel 
left by the old chief, was decently laid out upon a 
sort of scaffold, formed of boards, in his own wigwam, 
to which every one had free ingress, to look upon the 
remains of their departed chief. 

Early the next morning persons came pouring in 
from every direction, to witness the obsequies of one so 
distinguished. Most unvarying solemnity was in the 
manner of all, but there was no tumultuous expression 
of grief from any, nor did a tear-drop glisten upon a 
single cheek. Gideon remarked that, besides the clothes 
now actually worn by the deceased chief, a large quan- 
tity of wearing apparel was laid on the scaffold beside 
him, and, upon inquiry, he learned that it was the re- 
mainder of his wardrobe. His pipe, tomahawk, and 
scalping-knife were also there ; and, as Eoneguski de- 
posited a rifle, " This," said he, in a whisper to Gideon, 
" was once the property of your father, who left it with 
Eonah, in exchange for his own, when Aymor returned 
to the white settlements." Gideon felt as if he were near 
an old friend, as he looked upon the rifle which had 
once been his father's, and was almost instinctively im- 
pelled to stretch forth his hand and grasp it. But he 
was surrounded by a multitude of strangers, who might 
misunderstand the act, and to whom it would be diffi- 
cult to make explanations, and so he restrained him- 

At length the hour arrived when the body was to be 
conveyed to its last resting place. A half dozen of the 
most aged and respectable among those present ap- 
proached the scaffold with decent solemnity, arranged 
themselves around it, and, raising it from that whereon 
it rested, conveyed it, with all its contents, out of the 
wigwam. They then marched slowly towards a slight 
eminence within view of the village, and, without re- 


gard to order or arrangement, the crowd followed them. 
When the bearers had reached the top of the eminence, 
thickly covered with oblong hillocks of stone, they halt- 
ed, and deposited their burden. A circle was then form- 
ed round it, of which every one present constituted a 
portion. They then passed round the corpse, in proces- 
sion, each person causing the earth to return at intervals 
a sharp distinct sound, as he smote it with his foot, in 
unison with the rest of the company, the whole repeat- 
ing, at the same time, short sentences, in a measured 
tone, substantially as follow: — 

Low lies the chieftain on the lone hill top, 
Where all the mighty dead nightly assemble, 
Mingling their voices with the sad night wind — 
In dismal cadence. 

Cold is his wan cheek — marble his pale brow — 
Quench'd is his bright eye — fix'd are his clos'd lips — 
No more the warm breath passing between them — 
Comes from his bosom. 

Still as the broad leaf, when the air ceases 
Stirring its greenness on the steep hill side, 
When the mild summer reigns o'er all nature — 
Our chieftain lies low. 

Call to him, ancient braves — he may not answer ; — 
Let the loud war-whoop ring through the forests ; — 
Dull on the warrior's ear still must its sound fall, — 
Sleeping profoundly. 

Let woman's plaintive voice rise from the valleys, 
Calling the chieftain to wake from his slumber, 
Yet may he not come to join in the gay dance 
With bounding footstep. 

Bound in his icy sleep here must we leave him ; 
Kitchi Manitou hath claimed his free spirit, 
Borne it away to the land of the blessed, 
There to rest ever. 

The sun may not scorch him — the rain may not wet him; — 
His body shall moulder unseen and in quiet, 
Many long moons beneath the huge stone pile 
Heap'd high above him. 

VOL. II. 10. 


Son of the brave — advance — 'tis thy duty — 
Lay the first stone on the brow of thy father, — 
Let no unmanly tear course down thy young cheek, 
Staining its valor. 

Think of his brave deeds — think of his glory,- — 
Weep not for him whose warfare is ended, — 
Through the Elysian fields henceforth he wanders in 
Raptures unmingl'd. 

All now stood still, and Eoneguski, looking upwards, 
smote his forehead with his right hand, and then, bend- 
ing himself, took up a massy flat stone, and deposited 
it gently on the faee of his father. This seemed to be a 
signal — for instantly every one present was engaged 
in hastily gathering up the loose fragments of rock 
scattered over the hill, and heaping them upon the body 
of Eonah, until it, together with all the apparel and 
arms lying beside it, were effectually covered by the 
accumulated masses. 

When this was accomplished, they hastened back to 
the late dwelling of Eonah, with the same disregard to 
order that had characterized their departure from it — rail 
save Eoneguski, who lingered for some time, apparent- 
ly engaged in melancholy meditation beside the newly 
made grave of his brave and venerated sire. 

When the funeral party arrived at the late residence 
of Eonah, they perceived a person approaching it with 
a firebrand, with the evident design of setting it on fire. 
" Why should the wigwam of Eonah be given to the 
fire'?" inquired one. 

"Because," replied he who bore the torch, " he was 
a bad man — he was a tyrant — he oppressed the people of 
Eonee, and was a friend to the enemies of his nation." 

" It is false !" said the first speaker, " Eonah was a 
good man; — his wigwam shall not be given to the 

" Hath not the Great Spirit himself devoured with 
flames the wigwam of the Saga of Sugar Town, and 
was he not confederate with Eonah ?" said the bearer 
of fire. 


" The Great Spirit deals according to his pleasure," 
replied the first speaker, " but no mortal shall put fire 
to the wigwam of Eonah." 

The remainder of the crowd having now ascertained 
the subject of contest, united in the decision that Eonah 
was a good man, and that the usual expression of the 
public disapprobation of one recently dead, by setting 
fire to his wigwam, would be an act of gross injustice 
to his memory. The incendiary, who was no other 
than Chuheluh himself, was forced to yield, and reluc- 
tantly throw aside the brand, by which he had intended 
to destroy the wigwam of Eonah, with the secret pur- 
pose that it should injuriously affect the prospects of his 
son as his successor in the chieftainship of Eonee. 

The public opinion being thus formally expressed 
respecting the character of the deceased, parties were 
despatched, some to bring in game, and others, spirits, 
that funeral festivities might be kept, suitable to his 
worth. Many of the parties were successful in both 
objects, and cheer, that would have done credit to a 
funeral in Ireland, was provided in abundance. For 
many days Eonee was a scene of noise and drunken 
revelry, and, according to the custom of barbarian na- 
tions in every age, the dead was lamented and honored, 
by the living betaking themselves with more zeal and 
perseverance to unlimited indulgence in animal plea- 
sures. When the last piece of game had been devour- 
ed, and the last drop of the fire-water, provided for the 
funeral of Eonah, had ceased to affect the reason of him 
who swallowed it, the business of life was resumed as 
usual, and the people repaired to hold a council relative 
to his successor. 



Thy guilt these applications seek — 
Sirrah, 'tis conscience makes you squeak. 
So saying, on the Fox he flies — 
The self-convicted felon dies. 


Government, even amongst the most civilized na- 
tions, has been generally formed out of a concurrence 
of circumstances, adding a feature now, and another 
then, until what was at first a rude chaos, assumes 
something like order and regular beauty. In the pro- 
cess of formation, it often undergoes entire changes in 
its prominent characteristics. Now it is a monarchy — 
now an aristocracy, or perhaps a hierarchy — and then 
a pure democracy. 

The rude Government of the Cherokees differed 
very little in its history from others, and mingled in 
some degree all these characteristics. They have gen- 
erally had a principal chief, who has sometimes borne 
a title equivalent to King. The subordinate chiefs, 
who were numerous, answered to an aristocracy. — 
The prophets swayed the minds of the chiefs and 
people, with a power which, in effect, placed the Gov- 
ernment in their hands, while the people at large held 
all accountable to them, and made and deposed them 
at pleasure. Generally speaking, the offices of both 
the general and local chiefs were hereditary, but when- 
ever moved thereto by circumstances, deemed by them 
sufficient, the people suspended the regular operation of 
the law, and committed the princely power to other 

It was for the purpose of inquiring into the propriety 
of acknowledging the hereditary right of Eoneguski 
as their local chief, or of disallowing it, and appointing 


some one more acceptable, that the people of Eonee as- 
sembled after the funeral rites of their late chieftain were 
over. Much the larger portion would have been for 
acknowledging Eoneguski with acclamation, had not 
his manhood been stained by the termination of his ex- 
pedition against John Welch, and but for some reports 
unfavorable to the late chief, respecting the escape of 
Aymor, during the war against the whites many moons 
before : all of which Chuheluh had been active in pro- 
pagating with a view to his own success. 

Eoneguski was not ignorant of the difficulties in his 
way, and with an eloquence, the joint result of native 
talent and conscious integrity, he toJd his unvarnished 
story to the conviction and admiration of the assembled 
council. Chuheluh perceived at once the hopelessness of 
his prospects, and one less ambitious and self-confident 
than he, would have abandoned them. But after having 
been tantalized by them through the greater part of his 
life, and led on from one act of baseness to another, 
he could not make up his mind to a fate he never- 
theless saw to be inevitable, but resolved upon one last 
desperate effort. He replied to Eoneguski, and spoke 
of him and his deceased father in terms of the grossest 
opprobrium. He went on to allege a most nefarious 
combination between the late Saga and Chieftain to 
impose the son of the latter upon the people as their 

Whilst Chuheluh was pressing this subject with a 
good deal of warmth, two persons entered the place 
where the council was holden ; — the one a respectable 
elder of the tribe, and the other the servant of the late 
Saga, Wissa, staggering under the burden of two ox- 
hides carefully rolled up. As soon as the eye of Chuhe- 
luh fell upon the ox-hides, he stammered, turned pale, 
and looked as if seeking an opportunity for escape. 
But the attempt would have been fruitless. The hides 
were now spread out before the council, and many 
present recognised in them those which once covered 
the oxen of the Saga. 
10 # 


Chuheluh was formally charged with being the cause 
of the death of the Saga, by purposely setting fire to 
the mountain behind him, and of having availed himself 
of the confusion to steal and kill his oxen. 

The bare suspicion of such atrocities was sufficient 
to put him aside, as the opponent of Eonegusld, who 
was hailed by acclamation as the chieftain of Eonee, 
while his late competitor was compelled to stand before 
the assembled council to answer the imputed crimes of 
murder and theft. His guilt was fully established as 
to the theft, through the zeal and sagacity of Wissa, 
who had traced the cattle to his possession. Wissa had 
secretly taken persons of character along with him, 
and found both the hides, and a good part of the flesh, 
salted away in the wigwam of Chuheluh. This evi- 
dence against him being corroborated by other circum- 
stances remarkably strong, left no doubt of his guilt 
upon any mind as to this part of the accusation. But 
his having set fire to the mountain, and especially with 
any murderous purpose, was not so fully established : 
so that whilst he was left upon the charge of homicide, 
under strong suspicions, to be dealt with according to 
the unerring judgment of Him from whom nothing is 
hid, the council pronounced him guilty of the larceny, 
and sentenced him accordingly. 

Stripes seem to have been a punishment pointed out 
by nature for all offences of much magnitude, yet not 
sufficiently flagrant to merit death, but the mode and 
severity in which they shall be inflicted, have greatly 
differed, according to the age and country in which they 
have been applied. Amongst the Cherokees they con- 
stitute the punishment for every crime except homi- 
cide, and respecting that a custom prevails, it has been 
one of the purposes of this story, in part, to illustrate. 
For all other crimes, without regard to age or sex, 
stripes are the proper atonement. Indeed, the softer 
sex, with a severity upon that subject, which seems to 
have visited them in all times and places, receive them 
for an offence to which public opinion attaches no blame 


to the males ; but cruel are the scourgings to which the 
unfortunate squaw is generally subjected w T ho has bro- 
ken her allegiance to Diana. Happily, however, this 
seldom occurs, and upon few subjects have their more 
fortunate neighbors, the whites, greater reason to blush 
at the superior virtue of their Cherokee neighbors. 

But for whatever crime inflicted, whipping is, with 
the Cherokees, no light punishment. It is, indeed, 
more properly beating than whipping ; and is, in fact, 
called poling. They have a set of officers denominated 
light-horsemen, answering in their functions some- 
what to our office of sheriff, whose duty it is to ar- 
rest fugitives, and inflict these formidable castigations 
upon those against whom they are denounced. This is 
done with a long heavy pole, and the blows sometimes 
extend in number to five or six hundred, dealt with all 
the force of the operator, who is not (neither is he 
expected to be) at all solicitous for the consequences. 
The number of blows is to be inflicted in the usual 
manner, without regard to the life of the subject. If 
he dies it is in the regular course of things, and no 
concern is felt about it by any one. With passionless 
composure, the light-horseman accomplishes his task, 
and no fire of anger or indignation flashes from his eye 
to inflame the resentment of his victim — no look of 
compassion to alleviate his sufferings. 

There is perhaps no situation in which the fortitude 
and capacity for endurance of an Indian is so obviously 
manifested as when undergoing these sentences of their 
barbarian judicatures. No appeal is ever made for 
reversal, suspension or mitigation of the sentence — not 
an imploring look is cast upon the man of authority ; 
but as if studiously avoiding any accidental motions of 
sympathy in his favor, the culprit throws into his coun- 
tenance the most iron stoicism. When undergoing 
punishment, the involuntary perspiration may bathe the 
limbs — the lacerated vessels may pour forth their crim- 
son tribute — exhausted nature may faint or even fail — 
but not a sigh will heave the bosom — not a tear moisten 


the eye — not a groan burst from the laboring chest — 
not a breath of complaint separate the inflexible lips — 
not one convulsive motion disturb the cold marble sere- 
nity of the countenance. 

It was thus that Chuheluh, under the sentence of the 
council, atoned for his theft of the Saga's cattle, by the 
endurance of three hundred stripes, neither lightly nor 
unskilfully laid on, with a long pole. But while the 
light-horseman did nothing to disparage his professional 
skill, Chuheluh failed not, on his part, to give to a scene 
so degrading, all the moral grandeur it could borrow 
from his own immoveable stoicism, and, like the young 
Spartan who had stolen a fox, his countenance was as 
placid as the summer heaven, whilst his very vitals 
were in agony. But his bodily sufferings were nothing 
to his mental anguish. From early youth he had 
cherished ambitious hopes, and while striving, even 
during the life of Eonah, to undermine and supplant 
him, had always flattered himself that the natural 
termination of the power of that chieftain, should he 
live to see it, would certainly be the beginning of his 

As soon as the late Saga had established- his influ- 
ence over the people of Eonee, the sagacious Chuheluh 
set himself to win his favor, with the hope of using him 
for the advancement of his own purposes. He was not 
long in succeeding so far as to obtain from the Saga the 
desired promise, that he would do for him his utmost, 
not only to secure to him the succession, when the im- 
portant event occurred, but seize any opportunity that 
might present itself to hasten its advance. But vari- 
ous plausible pretexts were, from time to time, resorted 
to by the Saga to defer the consummation of their joint 
plans. His patience was often nearly exhausted, but 
something propitious would occur to renew his hopes 
and his confidence in the Saga. His interference in 
Welch's behalf, after he had made him his dupe, so far 
as to kill the Leech, was, at first, but the impulse of 
grateful kindness ; but when Eoneguski had taken the 


part of avenger, a new motive was given to his tutelary 
concern for Welch. If Eoneguski should perish in the 
pursuit, without any blame or suspicion attaching to 
himself, his own way would be made clear and even ; 
and to send the pursuer home bootless, would tend to 
disgrace him, and increase the chances for the success of 
a competitor. 

It was no wonder, then, that the Fox took so much 
pains to secure Welch from the grasp of Eoneguski, but 
had it been in his power, it was not his wish, to have 
removed him so far beyond his reach, as that he should 
cease to operate as a decoy bird, leading him from 
home, into scenes of difficulty and danger. The fail- 
ure of Welch's health, however, rendered the farther 
prosecution of this plan impracticable, and forced the 
Fox to abandon it for some other, by which to grati- 
fy his ambitious longings. He returned home, freight- 
ed with new materials for operation. 

He had known Soquilla previously to the battle of 
Etchoe, and heard of his disappointed love for Ye- 
nacona, whose child had disappeared at that place. 
Years afterwards, when Susquanannacunahata estab- 
lished himself as a Saga at Sugar Town, Chuheluh, 
notwithstanding his disguise, was struck with a resem- 
blance to the lost Soquilla. Still he took it for grant- 
ed he was what he pretended, and the matter passed 
off from his memory. When, however, on a visit to 
him, concerning the affair of Welch, he perceived the 
agitation of the Saga, the suspicion came upon him 
that Soquilla and Susquanannacunahata were one; and 
when He left the hut, he lingered for some moments 
on the outside, and overheard the soliloquy, and receiv- 
ed confirmation to his suspicion, with the information 
that Soquilla had attempted to destroy the child of Yen- 
acona, who had, however, escaped, and was yet alive 
in the person of Welch. He then stole off silently, so 
that it might not be known he had heard any thing, 
although the use he should make of the information he 
had obtained was not then determined on. 


On his return from escorting Welch, he forthwith 
proceeded to the wigwam of the Saga, and familiarly 
addressed him as Soquilla. The Saga was startled. — 
" Nay," said Chuheluh, " it is time we should under- 
stand each other — you have long enough amused me 
with promises you never intended to fulfil. Soquil- 
la knew not there was an eye upon him, when the 
helpless Oocomoo was cast into the flames.— Come, let 
us be friends. — The Saga can serve Chuheluh, and 
Chuheluh can destroy the Saga." 

No man is so hardened or self-possessed, as not 
to yield to the overwhelming effect of the literal read- 
ing, in his hearing, of facts he supposed secret. — 
Soquilla confessed all, and the early destruction of 
Eonah, and Chuheluh's appointment in his stead, was 
the price agreed upon for the keeping, by the latter, 
the secrets of the Saga. The illness of Eonah, and 
his calling in the assistance of the Saga, presented a 
favorable occasion for the fulfilment of his engagement, 
to which he was most importunately urged by his con- 
federate. But Wissa, who was present at all their con- 
ferences, determined to defeat their plans. He apprised 
Eonah of his danger, and his acquaintance with his 
master's unwritten herbal, supplied him with the pro- 
per antidote. It was in this fortunate way that Eonah 
escaped falling into the pit he had himself contributed 
to dig; for, as we have seen, it was his own counte- 
nance to which Susquanannacunahata was indebted 
for much of his influence and power, to do mischief 
among the people of the Valley. But his sagacity had 
penetrated the dangerous nature of the Saga, before it 
had become the interest of that master of deceit to de- 
stroy him. 

Some years after the Saga's establishment at Sugar 
Town, the necessity for some familiar was apparent, 
and his desire to procure one was communicated to 
Eonah. The chief very early entertained suspicions of 
Soquilla' s fidelity, and was anxious to provide himself 
with a spy upon his actions, and a fortunate occasion 


was now presented for so doing*. He undertook to 
supply him with a person suitable to his purpose, and, 
with the assistance of Mercury, procured Wissa, and 
fully instructed him in the part he was to act Wissa 
very successfully affected both deafness and its necessa- 
Ty attendant, when connate with its subject, dumbness. 
The facility with which he comprehended, and obeyed 
or answered, the signs given him, delighted the Saga. 
In short, his new master found him all that he could 
desire, and never for a moment suspected that his mis- 
fortunes were feigned, until their fatal descent down the 
mountain, or that, through his agency, Eonah was put 
in possession from time to time of all that it was mate- 
rial for him to know respecting his movements. Wis- 
sa's fidelity to Eonah was made quite secure, by the 
assurance of his freedom, upon well doing, whenever 
the life of the Saga should cease ; and, at the same time, 
to remove any temptation from the lad to accelerate the 
day of his liberation, any practises upon the life of his 
master should operate, he was told, as a forfeiture of all 
his claims. 

Chuheluh was deeply disappointed when the Saga's 
drugs failed in putting an immediate period to the life 
of Eonah. He strongly suspected the Great- Medi- 
cine of a want of fidelity in the performance of his part 
of their compact, and his suspicions were confirmed, 
when, to the assembled elders, Eoneguski was nomi- 
nated as the favorite of Heaven for the succession to his 
father. In the first transports of passion he was about 
denouncing him as an impostor, and exposing the whole 
of his wickedness, when he perceived the tide setting 
too strongly against himself to hope for a favorable hear- 
ing. He therefore prudently withdrew, in haste and 
secrecy. But it was with a heart burning with ven- 
geance, which he resolved speedily to visit upon the 
pretended Saga. He according procured an accom- 
plice, waylaid the helpless old man, with the intention 
of destroying him, by opportunely setting fire to the 
woods, in the belief that the flames, proving too rapid 


for the dull heavy cattle, both they and their owner 
would be offered as burnt sacrifices to the spirit of 
Revenge, of which the latter had been so faithful a wor- 

The result has already been shown, and, as soon as 
Chuheluh saw, or rather heard, the frightened cattle 
coming over the mountain without either cart or driver, 
he concluded that a catastrophe very grateful to himself 
had left them without an owner, and those feelings of 
cupidity, always exceedingly powerful in their action 
upon his mind, united with some untimely suggestions 
of prudence, to make beef of the animals, lest they 
might attract attention. 

This was not the first occasion on which his dexteri- 
ty with the bow proved available to the Fox, for the 
moon was no sooner risen than he pursued the oxen, 
and, with the assistance of his comrade, noiselessly 
slaughtered them, and carried them to his own home. 
Here they would have remained secretly enough, but 
for the active Wissa, who, although he might not have 
been entirely unmoved by the belief that, as the only 
member of the family of the Saga, the cattle of right 
belonged to himself; yet was he chiefly actuated by 
a desire to disgrace and bring to justice the ancient 
enemy of his patron Eonah, and the present competitor 
of Eoneguski, whom he loved. 

The detection and punishment with which Chuheluh 
was righteously overtaken, were not deplored by him 
so much on their own account, as their being the final 
overthrow of all those ambitious hopes which, notwith- 
standing their frequent and signal disappointments, had 
hitherto been, to him, the main spring of action, and 
sole source of anticipated happiness. But now that he 
had undergone public and degrading punishment, he 
could not hope to be acknowledged as a chieftain among 
the proud Cherokees. 



Friendship is constant in all other things 

Save in the office and affairs of love, 

Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues. 


In turning the face homewards after a long absence, 
the joyous thoughts that fill the mind are not unfre- 
quently mingled with others quite as painful as those 
that attended the departure. Undefined apprehensions 
of many and unfavorable changes in persons and scenes 
remembered with kindness and affection, steal in and 
make sad the heart. Sometimes a guilty sense of 
change in the heart itself, forbids it to anticipate a cheer- 
ful welcome by those towards whom it is -conscious 
of having weakened its allegiance. Sometimes the 
very excess of joyful anticipation conveys a melancholy 
admonition of the proneness of all earthly hopes to 
deceive and disappoint. Pure and sinless, or light 
and frivolous, must be the bosom in which joy dances 
alone, in its return, after wandering upon the earth, to 
the peaceful ark from whence it set out. At least 
the feelings of Gideon Aymor were not so unmingled, 
when, in compliance with his promise to Yenacona, 
he set out with reluctant footsteps to visit his father's 
home, after the funeral festivities of Eonah were ended. 
He found his family impatient for his return, and many 
were the inquiries why he had been so long absent. 
They were interested in the recital of such parts of his 
adventures as he thought proper to communicate, in- 
cluding every thing, in fact, except his imprudence at 
Waynesville, and his ignoble passion for the Little 
Deer. In the latter affair he could not think of encoun- 

VOL, II. 11. 


tering the wrath of his father, which, he doubted not, 
would be stirred into transports still more violent, 
when a family alliance with a full-blooded Indian was 
the subject — tremendous as it had been when one, 
whose ruddy tinge was scarcely perceptible, ventured 
to make such proposals. 

They were all deeply affected by the account of 
Welch's parentage — and the pale emaciated Atha felt 
her heart overflowing with filial tenderness towards the 
pious and afflicted Yenacona, whom, she trusted, one 
day personally to behold. 

Dolly kissed Gideon as she would have done a babe, 
and was delighted at once more beholding her first-born 
son — and " I'll never stir," said she, " if there's any use 
talking about it — I do believe I love Giddy more than 
all the rest of you put together." 

She was as good, nay, better than her word, with re- 
spect to the clothing — for an entire new suit had been 
provided for the youth, with which he was not a little 
gratified, thinking they might give him a more advan- 
tageous appearance at Tesumtoe, whither, he hoped, 
shortly to find some pretext for returning. 

But Gideon had not a few difficulties to encounter in 
making up his accounts at home. The old man in- 
quired with some solicitude into the fate of the ten hard 
dollars, and Gideon, by stammering and hesitating, and 
having always to turn back when he had gotten partly 
through with, the tale, and make a new beginning, suc- 
ceeded, finally, in wearing out his patience, and thus 
escaped the avowal of his shame, or the actual utter^ 
ance of a falsehood; which latter, however glibly he 
might have done with others, he seldom felt safe in at- 
tempting under the penetrating glance of his father. 

To Atha he was forced, again and again, to repeat all 
that concerned Welch, and to witness the renewed con- 
flict of passion, which each recital produced, threaten- 
ing, in its violence, the immediate destruction of a frame 
once healthy and robust, but now alarmingly delicate 
and attenuated. 


But these were not all the difficulties with which 
Gideon was beset. On the very morning after his arri- 
val — " Run over," said his mother to one of the younger 
children, " to Sile Stevens', and tell Patty that Giddy' s 
come home — and that she must come right over and see 
him. — Run, I say. — I tell you what, Giddy," continued 
she — " if you'd a staid much longer, you wouldn't a been 
in time to a seen even the burying of Patty — you can't 
think how she's taken on about you. — The poor cretur 
denies it, and says it's nothing but low spirits and loss of 
appetite that ails her — she talked of getting well when 
the weather moderated, and she could go out into the 
fields, and take more exercise — but we aJl knew better; 
and if you were the man you ought to be, you'd a gone 
right over this morning the first thing, and seed her 
yourself, and not a waited for me to send for her." 

" Mother," said Gideon, with some confusion — " what 
is Patty Stevens to me, that I should be in such a hurry 
to go over and see her?" 

" Come, Giddy," replied his mother — " don't be a 
fool, or try to make your mother one. Don ? t we all 
know that you and Patty Stevens are as good as en- 
gaged to be married, and that you are to be married as 
soon as you are a little older, and get settled ?:" 

" Other people know more about my affairs than I 
do myself, then — I am sure I never thought any more 
of Patty Stevens than of other girls in the neighbor- 

" Why, brother!" said Atha, in a tone of voice which 
plainly indicated that she was in doubt whether to con- 
sider the speaker in jest or in earnest, together with in- 
dignant disappointment if she was to believe the latter — 
'♦is it possible you can say you have never thought 
any more of Patty Stevens than other girls in the neigh- 
borhood ? — If it is true, Gideon," she continued, adopt- 
ing that tone and manner, so dignified and yet so ani- 
mated, with which a virtuous woman always speaks of 
a base action — " you are a bad man. — Yes, my own 
brother, as you are, if what you are now saying is true. 


you have cruelly deceived poor Patty Stevens, and have 
acted the part of a villain !" 

A cloud of displeasure flitted across the face of Gi- 
deon, as he heard his sister couple the word villain with 
his name, while conscience whispered " It is a just as- 
sociation." But, for many reasons, it was not his cue 
to be angry, and assuming a dignified gravity of man- 
ner — " Sister," he replied, " this, from another, I should 
have resented, but you know you may say to me what 
you please — yet you have deceived yourself. — Patty 
Stevens, I know, will not, cannot say, that I have ever 
spoken to her of marriage, or given her any reason to 
suppose that I have thought of her as a wife. I may 
have paid her some little attentions when I have met 
her, such as are common between young men and 
women, but nothing farther." 

" This will not do, Gideon. — Is it to me you have 
the boldness to say you have never done more than 
pay to Patty Stevens such little attentions as are com- 
mon among young people? — Was I not present last 
fall, on that beautiful moon-light evening, when, sitting 
by the fountain, you chose all pretty things, of earth 
and air, to represent the beauties and excellencies you 
told her she possessed beyond all others of her sex ? — 
And, ah ! Gideon, did she not believe the flattering 
tale? — Were not her blushes seen even by the pale 
moon-beam? — And were not the tell-tale beatings of 
her heart heard, as she bent her listening ear ? Tell 
me not that you have forgotten this. — Did I not mark 
the triumphant sparkle of your eye which seemed 
to say, 'She is mine,' as you drew her towards you, 
and she leaned upon you confidingly? — But I perceive 
it is past, and I must add to my other sorrows that of 
seeing my sensitive young friend perish in the bloom of 
her girlhood, from the cruel inconstancy of my own 
brother !" 

She rose from her seat, and, as she turned off indig- 
nantly, left the conscience-stricken Gideon to his own 


Patty Stevens, the subject of the foregoing discussion, 
was a pretty innocent girl, whose father occupied a farm 
adjoining that of Robert Aymor, and various circum- 
stances seemed to concur in marking her out as the 
destined wife of Gideon. And whether it was the fre- 
quent expression of this thought, in the hearing of the 
parties, or some other cause, it so happened that neither 
of them showed any aversion to having, in due time, 
fulfilled what was so generally prophesied. Patty Ste- 
vens, like Atha Aymor, was one of those persons who 
seem naturally gifted with a sense of delicacy and 
propriety, and elegance of manners, not usual in their 
sphere of life. These, with a handsome face and per- 
son, and great goodness of heart, (with which they 
are apt to be associated,) assured her an interest in all 
who became acquainted with her. Her cheerfulness of 
manner was such as simple innocence usually displays, 
until a short time before our story opens, when a mark- 
ed change took place, and she became serious and ab- 
stracted. It was probably about this time that the scene 
described by Atha, occurred at the fountain, and the 
most likely cause of this change was, that Gideon had 
avowed himself her lover. 

The heart of a virgin is like the outspread surface 
of a clear smooth lake, which faithfully reflects in fresh- 
ness the flower that grows on its margin — the green 
glossy leaf that hangs over it — the clear sky suspended 
like a vast azure curtain above it — the soft mild counte- 
nances of the moon and stars — and the bright joyous 
face of the sun, just as it receives them. It is alike a 
stranger to concealment and impurity. But the breath 
of love passes over the one, and the winds of Heaven 
over the other, and the surface of each is ruffled, and 
the unsuspected dregs, deeply deposited by nature, are 
stirred up. The placid smoothness is no more — the 
sparkling brightness has vanished ; — it no longer reflects, 
like a mirror, what it receives — nor artlessly exposes to 
view its own contents. 

Such was the change in Patty Stevens. She was 


thoughtful — she was absent ; — now she was pale — and 
now the color came rushing to her cheeks, and none 
knew why. The song no more accompanied the mer- 
ry whirring of her wheel, or, if she sang, her notes 
were sad and plaintive. No more she ate, as one who 
labored for her daily bread — but sparingly and seldom. 
Her parents were alarmed at these changes in their 
daughter, and sought, without success, from her, who 
scarcely knew the reason why she was less happy 
than in former days. She only felt it would distress 
her to believe herself an object of indifference to Gi- 
deon Aymor, and yet his declaration that he loved 
her, had disturbed the simple joy of her heart, and she 
was less happy than before. An undefinable anxiety 
haunted her perpetually, and she found herself frequent- 
ly constrained to relieve, by tears, a heart full, almost 
to bursting, with she knew not what. She was bur- 
thened with a consciousness that she could not now, as 
in former days, unbosom to her mother, without blush- 
ing, every thought of her heart ; and yet so holy were 
her feelings, that, even had the power been given, she 
would not have drawn the thinnest veil between her own 
bosom and the searching eye of Heaven. 

More and more marked grew the symptoms of 
change in Patty Stevens, until Gideon Aymor's depar- 
ture for the Indian country, and then did they increase 
with a rapidity which alarmed every one who knew 
her, and then did the least sagacious among her ac- 
quaintances solve her mystery without farther difficulty. 
Unsuspicious of being, as she was, the talk of the neigh- 
borhood, the poor girl "let concealment, like a worm 
i'the bud, prey," not only "on her damask cheek," but 
on the very seat of life. Hectic fever had already hung 
out the banner of his triumph in her slightly flushed 
cheek and preternaturally bright eye, when Gideon re- 

She was sitting with her mother, in conversation 
more than commonly cheerful, and with greater appa- 
rent strength than was her wont, when the breathless 


ambassadress of Dolly Aymor announced her message. 
No painter on earth could have caught them both at the 
same time, and it would have been a difficult matter to 
have chosen between the interesting intensity of expres- 
sion in the two faces of the mother and daughter. In 
both was something of surprise, at the thoughtless vul- 
garity, or unfeeling rudeness, of the message — for they 
were at some loss which to consider it. But in the 
mother's was, also, that alarmed apprehension which 
would probably have been produced by seeing a pistol 
suddenly discharged at her beloved child; for nothing 
less fatal did she anticipate from the shock upon her 
delicate system of the tidings communicated. But we 
must leave to the imagination of the reader the mingled 
play of passion in the bright flashing eye, the thin 
delicate features, and pale lips of the daughter, who, at 
length, fixing a keen look upon the child, " Was Mr. 
Aymor by," she said, calmly, " when your mother sent 
you with this message ?" 

" Oh, yes," replied the artless respondent, " Gideon 
was by." 

" Tell your mother, then," she continued, with a com- 
posure which altogether surprised her own parent, 
" that Patty Stevens is glad, for her sake, to hear of the 
return of her old playmate, but it is not in her pow- 
er to visit Mrs. Aymor to-day." 

The child, altogether indifferent to the sort of answer 
she might carry back, and quite unconscious that the 
one she now bore was torn, by pride, from the bleeding 
heartstrings of her who sent it, flew ofiuas lightly as 
if it had been a message of peace and happiness. 

The struggle made by Patty Stevens to conduct her- 
self with dignity and firmness during the short stay of 
the little Aymor, was entirely successful ; but she was 
no sooner gone, than her feelings overpowered her, and 
she was compelled to betake herself to bed, where she 
lay for several days in one of those unfavorable pa- 
roxysms for which consumption, then obviously prey- 
ing upon her, is so remarkable, generally succeeded 


by periods of flattering and deceitful convalescence pre- 
vious to the final sacrifice of its victim. 

The answer returned by Patty Stevens made very 
different impressions upon Dolly, Atha, and Gideon. — 
The former understood nothing beyond the literal sig- 
nification of the words. Atha, with the sympathy of 
one who fully understood her friend's character, read 
in it the expression of that dignified delicacy she 
knew her to possess, and the question put to her little 
sister, as to Gideon's presence, told also of wounded 
pride and affection that scorned to complain. — Gideon 
was not insensible to the reproach, couched in the 
language of indifference, and felt that it was richly 
merited. But he had formed his plans, and nothing 
of this kind could divert him from their fulfilment. 
Although, in point of person, he would not have hesi- 
tated for a moment in giving to Patty Stevens a decided 
preference over the Little Deer, yet the poverty of the 
former, contrasted with the fortune and expectations of 
the latter, together with the chieftainship of Tesumtoe, 
which would probably fall to her husband, were suffi- 
cient, in the eyes of an avaricious and ambitious man, 
to reverse the decision of taste, and were considera- 
tions too prevailing with him, to allow of his return 
to the allegiance from which he had been seduced. 
He remained for some days, making fruitless inquiries 
after Welch, from whom nothing had been heard, and 
forming and breaking successively resolutions to pay 
at least a visit of kindness to Patty Stevens. Day suc- 
ceeded day, and this visit was not paid, and his thoughts 
began to turn impatiently towards the Indian country, 
although the fear of his father's displeasure restrained 
his lips from the expression of his wishes, and he felt 
conscious the unsatisfactory tidings he would bear to 
Yenacona must greatly diminish the cordiality of his 
reception at Tesumtoe. 




How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds 
Makes ill deeds done. Hadst not thou been by — 
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, 
Quoted, and sign'd to do a deed of shame — 
This murder had not come into my mind. 


An argument is sometimes founded for the immedi- 
ate agency of the Evil Spirit in human affairs, upon 
the frequent and appropos occurrence of opportunities 
and temptations to the fulfilment of sinister purposes, 
it is thought scarcely allowable to attribute to the 
wise and merciful arrangement of a just Providence. 
Whatever may be the cause, every man's experience 
will testify that opportunities to do evil have seldom 
failed to wait obsequiously upon the desire — and not un- 
frequently opportunity itself has presented to the mind 
the first suggestion of an unlawful purpose. 

The experience of Gideon Aymor was something of 
this kind — for while he was greatly at a loss for some 
pretext and opportunity of accomplishing his design 
to disregard his plighted promises to Patty Stevens, the 
prejudices of his father, and his obligations of gratitude 
and friendship to Eoneguski — the arrival of a stranger 
at his father's house, seemed providentially to supply 
him with what he needed. 

It was the middle of a beautiful afternoon in the 
month of June, when a large man, with a broad brimmed 
white hat, and a shabby suit of black, rode up to the 
house of Robert Aymor on a substantial and rather ele- 
gant horse, (which had evidently suffered neither from 
hard riding nor want of food,) and requested lodging 
for the night. To refuse compliance with such a re- 


quest would, in that day and country, have been looked 
upon as highly disgraceful to the master of any man- 
sion — and so certain was the applicant of success, that 
he scarcely waited for an answer before he began to 

There was nothing in the appearance of the stranger 
very prepossessing, neither was it very forbidding. He 
was fat as well as large in person ; and a florid com- 
plexion, with a calm, inexpressive countenance, indi- 
cated a life of ease and plentiful living. The cut of 
his garments, a soft, drawling voice, such as is ascribed 
to Titus Oates, the famous plotter in English history, 
with the style of his remarks, proclaimed him at once 
an itinerant Methodist preacher. There was something 
in his countenance, as Robert Aymor welcomed him 
to his dwelling, that called up some early associa- 
tions in the mind of the old farmer, but he satisfied 
himself with the supposition that it was only a slight 
resemblance to a person he had once known, who had, 
in all probability, long since perished. 

" Thais ais a woild country you laive in, Mr. Aiy- 
more, but Goad haas been exciadingly merciful toa ye, 
aand gaiven ye maany sons aand daaghtqrs, with the 
mains of proviading for thair caomfort," he said. 

" Yes, thank God," replied Aymor — " I have no 
reason to complain ; and as for the country, wild as you 
think it, sir, I should be loath to exchange it, unless it 
might be for one still wilder." 

44 Aivry maan to hais oawn laiking, Maister Aiy- 
more, but for mai paart, Ai hoape ait wail gainerally 
be mai haapy loat to woarship the Goad of mai faythers, 
noat amoang the hail]s, but in the plaain," said the 

44 I wonder, stranger," said Aymor — 4t that, seeing 
you have such a dislike to our rough country, you 
should venture into it." 

44 Ai, Maister Aiymore, aam, aas you seea, a praach- 
er of the goaspel, aand wharesoaaver mai Maaster caals, 
Ai aam boand to foalow," answered the stranger. 


" And have you a call to preach in this neighbor- 
hood, sir ? — If so, you are heartily welcome, I assure 
you, for we are all glad of an opportunity of going to 
meeting ; but it is very seldom we have it," said Aymor. 

41 Mai caal, Maister Aiymore, is, blaassed be Goad, 
to triaals aand daifficulties, aiven graater thaan Ai 
shoad haave to encounter haare. — Ai goa to daispainse 
the woard of laife to the staarving chaildren of the raid 
main in the Tainnesay Vaalley ;" replied the preacher. 

" I doubt it's rather a hopeless undertaking you are 
engaged in, then," said Aymor, bluntly — "and it seems 
to me that pious men like you, who are willing to 
make such great sacrifices to a sense of duty, might 
save yourselves a vast deal of trouble, and do much 
more good, by remaining among civilized people, and 
preaching to men and women of your own color." 

44 The commaand," replied the preacher — " ais to 
praach the goaspel to aall nations; — wai scaatter the 
saad abroaad oaver the faace of the aarth, aand wai 
knoaw noat whaich shaall spraing up, aand whaich 
shaall pairish." 

" I know but little about these things, friend," said 
Aymor — " but I must still think you are engaged in an 
unprofitable job." 

" Thai aissue ais waith Haim who haath saant mai 
foarth;" said the preacher — " Paal maay plaant, aand 
Ai polos maay waater, but ait ais Goad who gaiveth the 

" Neither planting or watering in a poor soil will ever 
make crop," replied the countryman — " and it is just as 
hopeless an undertaking, it seems to me, to convert the 
Cherokee Indians to Christianity." 

" Ai aam soarry, fraind Aiymore, thaat you caan 
aiffoard mai so laittle coansolaation, but Ai must staill 
saay, ' Hais waill be doane ;' " replied the stranger. 

For some time the preacher and his host conversed 
together upon the subject of his mission to the Chero- 
kees, without the latter being the more convinced of its 
utility, or the former inclined to abandon it. By de- 


grees the way was prepared for a proposal, which the 
stranger had all along intended to make, that is, that 
Aymor would allow his eldest son to accompany the 
missionary as a guide into the Indian country. 

11 If you were a weakly man," said Aymor — " in 
common charity I would allow my son to accompany 
you, not as a guide — for the track is easily enough 
found — but to assist you in making your way through 
the difficulties you may have to encounter. — But you 
are altogether too stout a man to require any other help 
than that of your own gigantic arm." 

If the stranger was before solicitous for a guide, he 
was now doubly so, and pressed Aymor with renewed 
zeal to allow Gideon to accompany him. 

44 As for danger," continued Aymor, seeming rather 
to pursue the current of his own reflections, than to 
give attention or make any direct answer to the ap- 
peals of the stranger — 44 there would really be none, if 
it were not for your horse ; and, for that reason, you had 
better take it on foot; for the Cherokees are perfect 
devils for horse stealing, and rather than miss a fine 
animal like yours, I scarcely think your missionary 
character would be any security against the tomahawk 
and scalping- knife." 

The missionary became pale as death, and, as he 
turned his bloodless countenance with a horrid stare 
upon his host, the latter beheld, as in a picture, the very 
expression worn by the unfortunate Thompson, when 
they found themselves, during Rutherford's campaign, 
suddenly in the midst of the Indian ambuscade. 

44 As I live !" said Aymor — 44 it is he, and my first 
impression was right — your name is Thompson, sir, 
and no offence, I hope, but I see that putting on a black 
coat any more than a red one, will not make a man 
brave, who is not so by nature." 

44 Thoampson ais mai naame, Ai mustoawn ;" replied 
the preacher. — 44 Ai thoaght, Maister Aiymore, Ai woald 
noat maake maiself knoavvn to ye, but ait ais, perhaaps, 
aas waall aas ait ais ; foar surely, Maister Aiymore, you 


waill noat refuse to aan oald aacquaintance the vary 
smaall request Ai waas maaking ?" 

" Truly, I can hardly find it in my heart," replied Ay- 
mor — " and it happens fortunately for you, that Gideon 
is fresh from that country, and can tell you all about it 
beforehand, as well as lead you from place to place, 
when you are there, and make you acquainted with 
such persons as you may desire to know." 

The assent thus obtained, was a great relief to Thomp- 
son, who passed a most agreeable evening with his old 
friend in talking over by-gone times, and did not fail to 
avail himself of every occasion of obtaining from Gideon 
information respecting the persons and places they might 
meet with in their projected journey. 

Much dissatisfied was every member of Aymor's 
family, except Gideon himself, at the arrangement made 
with Thompson ; and even Aymor was not at heart 
much pleased with what he had done, but could not 
think of retracting a promise given in the warmth of 
feelings excited by the unexpected discovery of an old, 
though not highly esteemed, acquaintance. To Gideon 
nothing could be more opportune, and he actually felt 
towards the preacher as to a benefactor who had, from 
mere benevolence, travelled out of his way to render 
him a great kindness. 

Every thing was in readiness the next morning for 
Gideon's departure, and though the plan of the march 
was not exactly to his liking, he yet preferred any thing 
to remaining at home. He thought that equality 
wanting which should exist between fellow travellers, 
in his trudging on foot, while his more fortunate com- 
panion was mounted on a good horse, and murmuvingly 
mentioned it. Aymor proposed to obviate the difficulty 
by allowing Thompson to leave the horse in his care 
until his return, " And if," said he smiling, "the Indians 
should take it in their heads to make a martyr of you, 
Thompson, I can adopt the old saying — ' It is an ill 
wind that blows nobody any good.' " 

This mode of putting the matter did not tend to re- 

VOL. II.— 12. 


concile Thompson to the proposed arrangement; on the 
contrary, as safety was with him at all times a very im- 
portant consideration, and he could not but feel it more 
within his reach on horseback than on foot, in a wild 
country, it added to the firmness of his purpose not to 
part with his horse. But in truth, the shortness of 
breath, which the reader may remember was an early 
infirmity of Thompson, had not been cured by time, 
but remained to disqualify him altogether for pedestri- 
anism, and he therefore promptly refused to leave his 
horse behind him. 

It was next proposed as a means of putting the tra- 
vellers on an equality, that they should adopt the expe- 
dient called — riding and tying. But this was, if possible, 
stiJl more abhorrent to the Rev. Mr. Thompson than 
leaving his horse altogether; for, besides subjecting 
him to labor, to which he was altogether inadequate, 
he would be exposed among the mountain wilds with- 
out any one to keep up his spirits by conversation, or 
to defend him in case of actual danger. Nothing re- 
mained then but for Aymor to stretch his generosity 
still farther, and not only part with his son to accom- 
modate his friend, but also supply him with a horse, 
saddle and bridle. 

A victor mounted upon a noble war-horse, with 
splendid trappings, found among the spoils of his van- 
quished rival, could not have been more elated than Gi- 
deon at this additional stroke of fortune, which placed 
him upon a tolerable animal, in effect his own, on his 
return to push his half accomplished plans in the In- 
dian country. 

The travellers were at length upon the road, and a 
part of the way was beguiled by making and answer- 
ing inquiries concerning the different things they saw, 
and what and whom they would be likely to encounter 
in their farther progress. But conversation could be 
maintained between them only with great effort, and 
that constraint which always prevails on both sides 
when persons of dissimilar ages, habits, and modes of 


thinking, are thrown together, left each of the travellers 
much time to amuse himself with his own thoughts, or 
to study the accidental developments of the others' cha- 

Gideon kept in restraint the natural levity, and even 
wickedness of his own, not altogether from respect to 
the clerical habit of his associate, but also from an unac- 
countable inclination to impose himself upon the parson 
as one very moral, and having some pretensions to piety. 
On the other hand he found at intervals his companion 
breaking in upon the usual gravity of his manner, and 
then hastily resuming it again, watching at the same time 
the effect upon Gideon of such expressions as might 
slightly savour of levity or irreverence ; like one occa- 
sionally peeping out from a disguise to see whether he 
may venture to throw it off altogether, or a person 
cautiously feeling his way over ground where he sus- 

Sects the safety of his footing. Thus encouraged, Gi- 
eon gradually lowered his pretensions to propriety, 
and the preacher's moments of incautious levity became 
more frequent, until the former began to think that a par- 
son after all when fully found out, is much like other 

As they journeyed on they lost more and more of 
their original frigidity, until the ice was fairly melted 
between them, and, by the expiration of the first day, 
one had little to learn of the other, at least so each 
imagined for himself, while at the same time he proba- 
bly laid to his soul the flattering unction that he had 
learned more than he had taught. 



The sun as he rose from his place of rest, 

Shone on many a warlike crest, 

And kiss'd with his beam full many a face, 

Handsome and blushing in female grace, 

As gathering crowds rejoicing come 

To join in the feast of the harvest home 

Old Play. 

At length, as the travellers found themselves beyond 
the older settlements, the scenery became more wild, 
and the way more lonely. There was no more levity 
in the manner of the missionary, but restless anxiety 
and starting apprehensiveness assumed over it an unin- 
terrupted dominion. The mind of Thompson, although 
no way remarkable for strength, was not deficient in 
fancy, and this may probably account for the extreme 
timidity of his disposition ; for his imagination, fertile 
in suggesting subjects of apprehension, did not find in 
his reason a correspondent power of distinguishing be- 
tween the real and the false, and penetrating through the 
first appearances of things into their actual nature. 

It is not likely, then, he would be insensible to the 
beauties of the varied scenery through which he was 
passing; on the contrary, but for the gloom that 
a sense of insecurity threw over the whole, few men 
could be more alive to the rich variety of pictures pre- 
sented to his eye. Sometimes he found himself pas- 
sing between two lofty peaks, aspiring high towards 
Heaven, and holding each other in rivalry, while the 
trees with which they were crowned, appeared to reach 
over from one mountain in the direction of the other, 
with their varigated foliage, as if endeavoring to span 
the chasm between. Here the luxuriant pea-vine, with 
its beautiful blossoms, hung for miles the steep hill side 


with interminable garlands, and there a bare rock, in- 
distinctly seen through the waving shrubbery, assumed 
an antic shape, or rose a majestic castle, which fancy 
inhabited with some gigantic tenant of the wilds. — 
Here, high on the cliffy an adventurous rustic had 
located his rude dwelling, overlooking the country for 
miles around, and having in its elevation more the ap- 
pearance of a retreat for some winged inhabitant of the 
air, than for a being who must trust to the labor of 
climbing to reach his home. — There, where two oppo- 
site mountains by receding from each other, seemed 
abruptly broken off, the winding way suddenly opened 
in a beautiful vista, upon a little plain, so perfectly 
level as to form a delightful contrast with all that sur- 
rounded it. In these very choice spots, few and far 
between, as if to heighten to the utmost the contrast, 
human labor had been industriously expended in snatch- 
ing them with speed from the wild dominion of nature, 
giving them the appearance of old settlements, and even 
making in their embellishment considerable displays 
of taste. 

In one of them a neat little dwelling rose in the 
midst, whose newly whitened chinking gave it a cool 
snow-like appearance, standing out as it did in striking 
relief from the dark green mountain side, forming its 
back ground. Near it was the orchard, laden with 
the promises of a future luscious supply, with here 
and there a tree of earlier kind, even now holding out 
upon its bending branches the fully ripe fruit. Not 
far distant was the field of Indian corn, waving in 
the southern breeze its long broad leaves, and fil- 
ling the air with the yellow pollen from its tassels. — 
Meadows, over whose rich verdure herds and flocks 
were scattered, or having been reserved for the pur- 
pose, offering a heavy harvest to the mower's scythe, 
skirted along the clear rapid stream, to which the love- 
ly valley owed all its fertility and beauty, if not its 
existence, as did the famous Tempe to Peneus. Bab- 


bling along through this little Eden, the brook soon 
came in rude contact with the base of one of the moun- 
tains, where they again approached each other, and ran 
dashing and foaming for miles through a solitary wild, 
where our travellers were forced to follow it in their 
journey. Yet nothing befell them, worthy of particu- 
lar notice, until they passed the Cowee Mountain, and 
found themselves in the great Tennessee Valley. 

It was early in the morning when they were sud- 
denly surrounded by Indians, armed with rifles, and all 
bending their course in the same direction with them- 
selves. The woods appeared to be teeming with its 
red children, sending them forth as some huge molehill 
is wont to do the swarming emmets. It may well be 
supposed it was not the missionary spirit which at that 
moment filled the soul of Thompson. Concern for 
his own bodily safety absorbed all interest in the spi- 
ritual dangers of those, in search of whom he had tra- 
velled so far, to snatch them as brands from the burn- 
ing. He had the prudence, however, to suppress any 
expression of uneasiness, and left Gideon to find out, in 
his own way, what these alarming indications meant. 
He was not, himself, without a suspicion that it might 
betoken the accomplishment, to his hand, of the main 
object of his mission, yet that did not serve to miti- 
gate much his apprehensions, as a misconception of his 
character, against which he had no security, might be 
absolutely fatal to him. 

Gideon, on his part, was not long in entering into 
conversation with one of the Indians, in his own lan- 
guage, and obtaining from him a partial solution of the 
cause of this unusual excitement. 

"Look!" said the Indian, pointing to a field of corn, 
upon the margin of the river that rolled beyond it, 
" the Great Spirit has sent bread to his red children." 

Gideon did as he was directed, and, not without some 
surprise, perceived that the corn was already in that 
state commonly called " roasting-ear," while the most 


forward he had left behind him was scarcely more than 
just " shooting- and tasselling." This reminded him 
again of the saying of Eoneguski, in relation to the 
superior mildness of climate of the Tennessee Valley 
over other parts of the mountain region. 

" I do not understand you yet," he said, addressing 
the Indian. — " What has yon field of corn to do with 
this assembling of your people?" 

"To-day," said the Indian, "the Oewoehee dance 
the Yenacona, The Great Spirit has sent rain upon 
the earth, and the sweet roasting-ear has come, and the 
Indian eats it, and is glad, and his heart pours out its 
joy to the Great Spirit." 

Gideon knew too well the character of the common 
Indian, to expect from one of them any thing like a 
clear explanation. Enough had been told him to ena- 
ble him to perceive that some Indian ceremony was to 
be performed, indicative of their gratitude to the Great 
Spirit, for having sent them rain and fruitful seasons. 
He was struck, too, with the identity of the name men- 
tioned by the Indian with that of the aunt of the Little 
Deer, and remembered that she had told him of her be- 
ing named after one of the festivals of the Oewoehee. 

Having communicated to Thompson the result of his 
inquiries, the mind of that worthy personage was re- 
lieved, and he fell into a train of reflections upon what 
he had just heard. "Ai haave oaften haerde, fraind 
Gaideon," he at length broke silence, " thaat the aabo- 
rigines of our laand are the tain traibes of the chaildren 
of Aisrael, whaich haave oatherwaise bain aintirely 
loast, and whaat you haave jaist communicated saims 
graately to faivour thaat balaife. We raid in Hoaly 
Wrait thaat, by Divain authoarity, the choasen people 
waare requaired to oaffer unto Jehoavah the fairst fruits 
of aall thair aincraise, and the faistive cealebraation of 
thaise people saims vaary laike a realict oaf thaat aan- 
cient caustom." 

" Perhaps it may be so," said Gideon, impatiently, 
" but, in the name of Heaven, Parson, why don't you 


talk faster, it tires me to death to listen to you, taking 
an hour to say what another man would do in five 

" ' Bea noat raash waith thai mouath,' saiath the waise 
maan, aand Ai do waal, Maister Aiymore, not to be haa- 
sty of spaich." 

Our travellers had now come in view of a large con- 
course of Indians, of both sexes, in a sort of encampment, 
and many fires were kindled on a plain near the river, 
around which crowds were busily engaged, as if in 
some species of cookery. Upon a nearer approach, 
they perceived it was Indian corn the natives were roast- 
ing in the shuck, and as each ear was thought to be suf- 
ficiently cooked, it was deposited in a basket, whereof 
many were provided for the purpose. 

Gideon and his companion mingled in the crowd 
without attracting much attention, every one being 
apparently absorbed in what was going on. — The for- 
mer, however, encountered many acquaintances, who 
seemed pleased to see him, and with whom he con- 
versed freely, and obtained more explicit information 
respecting the ceremony in which they were engaged. 
At length he met with Eoneguski, by whom he was 
welcomed back into the Indian country with cordiality, 
and asked of his success in inquiring after Welch. — 
Gideon made Eoneguski acquainted with Thompson, 
as well as with the object of his visit to the Valley, and 
his having accompanied him as a guide. 

Eoneguski was as the chief of the Eonee, the master 
of ceremonies on the present occasion — no prophet 
having yet succeeded in the Valley the deceased Sus- 
quanannacunahata. All the corn being now prepared 
and deposited in baskets, Eoneguski approached one 
of them, and, taking from it an ear, commenced eating, 
and his example was soon followed by all present, 
except Gideon and the missionary, who waited for 
an invitation, which they were not, however, long in 
receiving. Gideon found no difficulty in disposing of 
his roasting-ear as quickly as the best Indian among 


them, but his companion was, in the first place, greatly 
embarrassed with the shuck, and, when he had finally 
succeeded in stripping that off, was very awkward in 
removing the grains of corn with his teeth, observing to 
Gideon, in an under tone, that he was not much ac- 
customed to " aating like a hoarse." 

This very intelligible part of the ceremony being 
suspended, our two neophytes waited with some interest 
for the next proceeding, when Eoneguski, taking up his 
rifle, carefully examined its condition, and, opening the 
pan, looked to the situation of the priming, and, not 
seeming to be satisfied with it, threw it out and put in 
fresh. His example in this, also, was followed by the 
other male Indians. The young chief then grasping 
his rifle by the middle, sprang forward, with a shrill 
whoop, into a measured tread, accompanied by a chant, 
wild and monotonous, to the effect following: — 

The Great Spirit dwells in the blue air above — 

His sun shines upon us in beauty and love — 

He sends down his rain, all the mountain streams swelling, 

And plenty is found in each Cherokee dwelling. 

The corn-stalks wave thickly abroad o'er each field — 
Connehany and bread to the papoos they yield ; 
While the squaw tends the corn in the vale by the river, 
The brave treads the mountain with strung bow and quiver. 

Hark ! a sound loud and distant now visits the ear — 
Is it mutt'ring thunder from clouds, that I hear ? 
.No! 'tis *Yo-ne-sa-ha, with his legions comes rushing, 
Like winter-swell'd torrents from mountain sides gushing. 

His flesh is provided for sav'ry meat — 

For the Cherokee youth who is fearless and fleet — 

His skin forms a mantle — when nightly watch keeping — 

Or a couch for the brave — while in peace he is sleeping. 

See ! the woods are alive with the elk and the deer — 
The beaver, the bear, and the otter are here — 
On the hill, on the plain, in the deep mountain hollow, 
There is game of all sorts for the Indian to follow, 

* Yo-ne-sa-ha, signifies the BuSalo. 


The Great Spirit sends us all hearts that are brave — 
No hand brings the red man to bow as a slave — 
We loudly shout forth — let the universe hear us — 
Who wakes up our vengeance may tremblingly fear us. 

Then thanks to the Spirit our fathers who blest, 

And call'd them away in their glory to rest — 

Let us strive by brave deeds — though we linger behind 

them — 
When call'd from this land — with the blessed to find them. 

Let friendship and kindness forever unite, 
Our hearts in a chain strong, and lasting, and bright — 
The Oewoeheo race then like yon noble river, 
Rolling on, shall continue forever and ever. 

So far as the only two white men present were able 
to discover, there was no fixed rule by which the Che- 
rokee chief regulated his course, further than that after 
various meanderings, he described irregular circles, and 
used gesticulations suited to the different parts of the 
song. In all this he was strictly followed in succes- 
sion by every male Indian present, armed like himself. 
When they had kept up this exercise for several minutes, 
they all stopped at once, like the several portions of 
a complicated machine at the touching of a certain 
spring ; — the song ceased, and elevating the muzzles 
of their rifles, they discharged them in the air. Re- 
loading them, the same process was gone through, 
several times, until their guns had been twelve times 
discharged, when they were laid aside, and the dance 
resumed, which was now joined in by the women, as 
it appeared, promiscuously with the men. 

The measure of the chant was changed, as well as 
the words, which were to the effect following : — 

Ev'ry thing around is love — 

Earth beneath — and Heav'n above — 

Affection in the early beam 

Lights upon th' inconstant stream. 

The clouds descend in kissing show'rs — 

Nature smiles in op'ning flow'rs — 

Wooing winds young leaflets kiss — 


And the leaflets stir with bliss. 

Objects still — and tbose that move — 

All confess the pow'r of love. 

Why should man alone be found — 

(Who with love should most abound,) 

To deny its gentle pow'r, 

In this kind and genial hour? 

Lot him love his God on high — 

Who sheds His love o'er earth and sky — 

All objects let him love in common — 

And most of all — bewitching woman. 

This being ended, Eoneguski addressed the crowd, who 
listened with mute attention to an oration of consider- 
able length, inculcating the advantages of union, and 
dependence on the Great Spirit; after which they resu- 
med the eating of corn, until all that had been prepared 
was consumed. 

It was now evening, and the Indians separated, seek- 
ing their homes by the various trails along which they 
had come together in the morning. Gideon and Thomp- 
son became the guests of Eoneguski at Eonee. 

Impatient as was Gideon to reach Tesumtoe, and as 
specious a pretence as his business with Yenacona af- 
forded, he could not break through the various excuses 
of Thompson to remain at Eonee. 

During their sojourn at that place, it did not escape 
his observation that Thompson sought various and pro- 
tracted interviews with Eoneguski, which the latter 
after the first two or three, seemed anxious to avoid. 
But Gideon was not disposed to attribute them to any 
other object than such as might be connected with his 
clerical mission. 

Happening one day to be alone with Eoneguski, he 
perceived the mind of the chieftain was laboring with 
something he wished, yet hesitated to communicate. — 
At length the Indian commenced, " I will tell my bro- 
ther a story." 

" Say on," replied Gideon, adopting the laconic man- 
ner of him with whom he was conversing. 

" A white man was hunting deer among the moun- 


tains ;" the chief continued. — " Many warm days had 
visited the earth, and one night the snow came down 
silently and unlooked for, as he whose heart is black 
with vengeance, steals upon his enemy. The white 
man for many hours saw nothing — for the Great Spirit 
sent no game for his rifle. The white man grew faint 
and weary. Far before him in the snow he saw some- 
thing shining with bright colors. He approached it and 
took it up. — It was a snake, but the white man was 
not wise, and knew not that it was a snake — and the 
heart of the white man was kind. ' It is a poor crea- 
ture,' he said, ' stiffened and perishing with the cold. — 
I will warm it, and it shall live.' The simple white 
man laid the snake in his bosom. — Soon, as if the bright 
sun had poured out its warmth, it began to move. The 
white man heard a shrill rattle, and cast out the traitor — 
but it was too late — the creature had struck its poison 
to his heart, and the white man died." 

While he was relating this story, Eoneguski fixed 
not his eye upon the countenance of Gideon, or he 
would there have read the conscious guilt giving it an 
application entirely different from that designed. 

" I am the serpent," thought Gideon, to himself, "and 
Eoneguski is the unwary benefactor whom I have 
stung in the most vital part ; — but he must proceed in a 
different way, if he means to get round me. — I am 
not to be caught or diverted from my purpose by well 
contrived stories." 

" My brother does not pity the white man;" said Eo- 

Gideon replied aloud, " He deserved to perish for his 

" The wise," said the Indian, " read lessons in the 
folly of others." 

" True," replied Gideon, " but I trust both you and 
I, Eoneguski, are too wise to take a serpent to his 

" Did the white man believe it was a snake he saw 
among the snow?" said Eoneguski, rising, and looking 


steadfastly upon Gideon. " Beware of Thompson," he 
added, and departed, regardless of any solicitations for 
further explanation. 

14 Beware of Thompson," repeated Gideon, to him- 
self. — " Why 1 — how can that formal hypocrite, as I 
know him to be, injure me ? No ! by Heaven, he is 
just such a tool as I need to work with. — The credulous 
Indian I see is still unsuspicious of me as a rival." — 




How am I a villain 

To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, 
Directly to his good ? * * * * * 
When devils will their blackest sins put on 
They do suggest with heavenly shews 
As I do now. ******** 


Some such reflections as the great poet in the fore- 
going lines puts into the mouth of the arch villain Iago, 
may be supposed to have passed through the mind of 
Thompson, in contemplation of the part he had chosen 
for himself, operating as it did with complicated effect 
upon a variety of individuals. 

It was the next day after Gideon's interview with 
Eoneguski, recorded in the last chapter, that he set out 
in company with Thompson for Tesumtoe, and arrived 
there in good time to be well received by Yenacona 
and the Little Deer. Gideon introduced his compa- 
nion to them, and explained the object of his intended 
sojourn in the Indian country. Yenacona would have 
been much better pleased with such an undertaking by 
one of her own church, but a long separation from the 
society of persons of that persuasion had softened the 
bigotry belonging to her sect so much as to cause her 
to prefer that the light of the Gospel should be spread 
among the savages even by heretics, than that they 
should go without it altogether. She therefore received 
Thompson with quite a hearty welcome. Her grief 
was at first passionate on learning Gideon's ill-success 
in his search for Welch — but soon subsided . into her 
wonted pensive sadness. 


The soft insinuating manners of Thompson gradually 
won upon her, and he soon so far prevailed with the 
Little Deer as to render her the first fruits of his mis- 
sionary labors. She avowed herself a Christian of the 
Methodist persuasion, and received from his hands the 
sacraments as administered by that church. Yena- 
cona's orthodoxy was severely tried, but the personal 
character of the preacher had so far won upon her, 
and her zeal for the Little Deer becoming a Christian 
in any form, was so strong, as to prevent her making 
any difficulty. She was the more reconciled by the 
reflection, that were they to wait for union with the 
Church according to the Roman ritual, the opportunity 
might be lost altogether of snatching the Little Deer 
from the heathenism of her nation. 

Gideon now imagined the success of his own plans 
certain, and that nothing remained but for him to apprise 
Thompson of the manner in which he expected his 
services. He hastened to do so, but did not find his 
clerical friend quite so pliant as he had anticipated ; 
for although he did not actually refuse his assistance, 
he would make no promise to afford it, but rather 
treated the matter as a thing to be duly considered, 
before any decided action, than as one in which the 
path of duty was plain. At the time of his communi- 
cation, however, Gideon perceived a smile of pleasure 
suddenly to light up the countenance of Thompson, 
succeeded by a restlessness of manner which suffered 
no abatement, until he found a pretext for returning 
to Eonee for a day or two, alone, 

Gideon made use of this occasion to do something 
for himself, but if he met with nothing to produce abso- 
lute despair, there was but little to encourage hope. — - 
Thompson returned to Tesumtoe at the appointed time, 
but evidently chapfallen and disappointed ; so much so, 
that it did not escape the observation of the females, 
who, however, considered the affairs of one so holy, un- 
fit subjects for their prying curiosity. 


It was the next day after his return from Eonee, that 
Thompson addressed Gideon as follows : — 

" Fraind Gaideon, Ai haave taaken counsel of the 
Loard consairning the maatter whaich you spaake to 
me of soam daays saince, aand it is boarne in upoan my 
maind thaat it maight be waal for us to understand aich 
oather. The Scraipture saiath, 'who so kaipeth hais 
mouath aand hais taounge, kaipeth hais soal from troua- 
ble.' Aand the saame Scraipture saiath ' a taalebearer 
revaaleth seacrets, but hai thaat ais of a faiathful spairit 
coansaeleth the maatter.' Ai would knoaw, thain, fraind 
Gaideon, if thou wouldest kaape my coaunsel as Ai do 

" To be sure I will," said Gideon. 

" Laif, even the laif of thy fraind, will be in thy 
haands ; therefore, swair to me, as Eleazer swaare un- 
to Aabraham, thaat you wail not, to any laiving soal, 
rapaet aany thaing thaat paasses betwaixt thai and 

"I swear," said Gideon, impatiently — "say on." 

Thompson looked wildly and cautiously around, to 
make sure that there was no one in hearing. — " Ai doa 
exsaedingly fair aand traimble," he said, " laist soame 
aincoainsaideration of thaine should betraay me." 

" I have said that you may trust me," said Gideon, 
" and surely that ought to satisfy you." 

With pale countenance and quivering lips Thomp- 
son proceeded: — " You haave saiad thaat you would be- 
coame the hausband of the Laittle Dair ; knoast thou 
noat thaat, by thaat allaiance, you would becoame im- 
maidiately the chaif of the people of Tesumtoe, aand, 
by maarrying a descaindant of the aancient kaings of the 
Oowoahai, as they caal themselves, the whole Chairokaa 
naation maight coam under your control." 

" Do you suppose," replied Gideon, " that if I was 
ignorant of all this, I should be so desirous for the 
match VI 

" Aind aif thaiy waishes could be aaccoamplished," 



said Thompson, "hoaw wouldest thou use thai power? 
Wouldst thou laid foarth, aat the baidding of Coan- 
graiss, thaiy waarriors, or wouidst thou be wailling to 
resaive waalthe and honore from the majesty of Aing- 
iand, and foallow hais coammaands?" 

" I understand you," said Gideon, impetuously, "this 
is what Eoneguski meant." 

Thompson started, like the toad mentioned in Mil- 
ton's Paradise Lost, when touched by the spear of 
Ithuriel. — "Aionaguski daidst thou saay? — Haas thaat 
chaif communicaated aany thaing whaich paassed be- 
twaixt haim and mai ?" 

" No 1" replied Gideon, "but he told me to beware 
of thee, and I now understand him. — A missionary, 
indeed! — Are not the Creeks and other Indians, in 
different parts of the country, already engaged in mur- 
dering the white settlers 1 and is it not to stir them up 
to the same savage outrages, you have come amongst the 
Cherokees? — I have heard of such people before." 

" You haave swoarn, aand Ai knoaw you wail not 
betraay mai," said the frightened Thompson. 

"I will not betray you," replied Gideon, "but it is 
upon the condition that the Little Deer is mine ; and 
you may rest assured that when the Cherokee nation 
comes under my control, it shall never make war upon 
the United States." 

"Goad permitting, Ai wail use mai poar aindai- 
vours in your behaalf," said the humbled missionary, 
as they separated. 

A few words are now necessary, according to the 
plan of our story, to explain how Thompson came to 
appear in his present situation, over whose fate uncer- 
tainty hung in the earlier part of our narrative. The 
Indians, by whom he was taken at the same time with 
Robert Aymor, did not esteem him much of a prize, 
and he accordingly fell into the hands of one of the 
British emissaries, by whom he was taken to Canada, 
Here it is not important what befell him until he joined 
the Methodist Church, and passing through the inter- 


mediate grade of exhorter, finally became an itinerant 

The notorious affair of John Henry, during Mr. 
Madison's administration, sufficiently discloses the prac- 
tices resorted to, in no degree creditable to the British 
name, by which the reduction of her quondam colonies 
to their broken allegiance was sought to be effected. 
Mr. Thompson's calling, together with the natural 
association produced by the adventures of his early life, 
in which he had picked up something of the Cherokee 
language, indicated him as one who might be advan- 
tageously employed in the general plan of operations 
among the Cherokee Indians. It is said that every 
man has his price, but, for the honor of human nature, 
it is to be hoped this is rather the maxim of the cynic 
than of truth. At any rate, the Rev. Mr. Thompson 
was not a high priced man. Besides, he was not much 
accustomed to question the propriety of what had re- 
ceived the sanction of high authority, and lent a willing 
ear to the very advantageous proposals that were made 

He passed through the United States, unquestioned, 
as an ordinary itinerant preacher, and received all that 
kindness and respectful attention his cloth is always 
so certain of commanding among all classes of the 
Anglo-Americans. His journey was, therefore, upon 
the whole, pleasant, until he found himself in the moun- 
tainous parts of North Carolina. Although his native 
land, there was nothing there to bind to it his affections — 
for his mother, as he had long since heard, fell under 
the weight of her grief, upon learning his capture and 
disappearance among the Indians. There came over 
him a feeling of loneliness — his heart was ready to fail 
trim ; and he longed for some stout companion, upon 
whose prowess he could rely in any difficulties that 
might beset him. As he came into the vicinity of his 
old acquaintance, Aymor, his recollection of the pusil- 
lanimous part he had acted in their last interview, made 
him rather ashamed to encounter him, and, besides, he 


somewhat feared the prying sagacity of the old whig. 
But he learned that he was the father of a stout son, who 
had grown up with an hereditary character for courage 
and perseverance, and Thompson was determined to 
avail himself, if possible, of so suitable a companion. — 
To time, and the great change in his habit, he trusted 
for security against being recognised by his old ser- 
geant. We have already witnessed the result of his 
plan, and now, passing over intermediate events, must 
pursue him to Eonee, where, in his private interviews 
before mentioned with Eoneguski, he commenced upon 
that chief the operation of stirring up the Cherokees 
against the white people. 

He was altogether disappointed in the tone of mind 
manifested by the chief on the subject of his communi- 
cations, and, notwithstanding he varied the attack on 
every occasion and in every form, and prolonged his 
stay at Eonee to increase his opportunities, he had not 
the smallest reason to flatter himself with the hope of 
success, when he departed for Tesumtoe. The infor- 
mation there communicated by Gideon relative to the 
Little Deer, opened to him a new field of speculation. 
He could appeal to the love and jealousy of Eonegus- 
ki, and make the hand of the Little Deer the price of 
the insurrection of the Cherokee tribe. 

He accordingly made haste to Eonee, full of the 
plan, and confident of its success; but when he arrived 
there, Eoneguski was from home, and he learned such 
tidings respecting him, as blasted entirely his cherished 
anticipations. Full of chagrin he returned to Tesum- 
toe, and resolved to effect a part of his purpose, at least, 
in a different way, and to bargain with Gideon for its 
accomplishment. His timid nature was entirely unfit 
to encounter, in a negotiation, the bold though unprin- 
cipled temper of Gideon, who, seeing at once his advan- 
tage, was determined to have things at his own price, 
while it was in his power, rather than unnecessarily 
involve himself in difficult and disgraceful stipulations. 
Although foiled in his schemes hitherto, and having 


apparently surrendered at discretion, Thompson was 
yet, at heart, determined to play out his part with less 
boldness perhaps, but with more safety, and whilst he 
lulled Gideon into confident security, watched the course 
of events, ready to take advantage of any favorable 



What sound was that so wildly sad, 
As by prophetic spirit made — 
So sudden mid the silence deep, 
Breaking on nature's death-like sleep ? 

■ it was no dream of fear. 

Behold an Indian face appear — 
He stands within the cot * * * 


The war of 1812, between England and the United 
States, is remembered by both parties, even to this day, 
with something of bitterness. It is probable that errors 
and misapprehensions on both sides led to this war, 
and doubtless the same causes may have continued 
to keep alive the feelings of unkindness with which 
it was necessarily attended. There is no circumstance 
connected with it so hardly construed by the peo- 
ple of the United States against the people of Eng- 
land, as their stirring up our tawny neighbors, and our 
dark-skinned domestics, to harass, in the most horrid 
of all forms of warfare, those who were allied to them 
by so many of the most sacred ties. How far the na- 
tion of Great Britain may be responsible for this out- 
rage on humanity and civilized warfare, opinions will 
differ ; and while charity inclines, if possible, to exone- 
rate it, irresistible testimony fixes the stain indelibly 
upon many of the agents of the Government. 

Eoneguski had been for some time conscious that 
events were going on in the political world, and that 
attempts were making calculated to involve his people 
in hostilities with the whites, already commenced by 
some of the neighboring tribes. He was not less con- 
scious than other superior men of his complexion, of 
the oppressions of the white people upon the Indians, 


and of the iniquity of the principles which regulated 
their intercourse with them. But he had also the sa- 
gacity to perceive it was only through the forbear- 
ance of the whites that any thing was left to the scat- 
tered red men; and that it was only tempting Fate, to 
throw themselves out of the protection of the Govern- 
ment of the United States — a very ineffectual one, 
truly — but, at the same time, their only defence 
against the depredations of the border settlers. He 
wisely believed it better contentedly to preserve the 
little that was left them, than, by a hopeless attempt to 
improve their condition, expose to certain destruction 
their present comforts. These opinions he had early 
entertained, and taken great pains to propagate among 
the extensive family of the red men. 

The young chief paid to the Little Deer a visit just 
after Gideon's departure on his return homeward, and 
had found her mind still unsettled; so that nothing satis- 
factory could be learned as to the footing on which they 
stood, and he had purposed renewing his visit immedi- 
ately after the celebration of the Green Corn Feast, at 
which his presence could not be dispensed with by his 
people. But his interviews with Thompson convinced 
him of the existence of a crisis at which his public duty 
was important and urgent; and having taken great pains 
to put the Valley Indians upon their guard, he set out, 
as soon as Gideon and Thompson had departed to Te- 
sumtoe, upon an expedition among the Overhill Chero- 
kees, to counteract any unfavorable influences that 
might be exercised among them. 

It was during this absence that Thompson returned 
to Eonee, and learning from Chuheluh, whom he had 
successfully assailed during his first visit, the cause of 
Eoneguski's departure, he considered his chance of do- 
ing any thing with him entirely hopeless. With the 
assistance of Chuheluh, however, he experimented upon 
some few others, but was so much disheartened as to 
abandon operations for the present in that region, and 
return to Tesumtoe. 


Eoneguski was gratified by the success he met with 
in quieting the minds of the Cherokees, who had not 
entirely escaped exciting influences artfully put in ac- 
tion, that, but for his timely interference, might very 
speedily have kindled into a flame of hostility against 
the United States, too fierce and raging to be extin- 

He had scarcely reached home, felicitating himself 
on his success, when, reposing at night in his wigwam, 
he felt some one shake him gently, and whisper in a 
mandatory tone of voice, " Eoneguski, awake !" 

Surprised at so unexpected a salutation, under cir- 
cumstances so unusual, he sprang upon his feet, grasped 
his scalping-knife, and strove, by the indistinct light, to 
discover who had thus intruded upon his slumbers. 

" The chief of the Eonee," continued a soft, insinu- 
ating, but manly voice, in the Indian tongue, and an 
under tone — " is in his own wigwam — surrounded by 
his own people; — he need fear no danger. — It is the 
stranger that has come unbidden beneath his roof, who 
has cause for apprehension." 

" The stranger is always welcome to the home of 
Eoneguski," replied the chief — " He need fear nothing." 

"My heart is a stranger to fear;" replied the un- 
known — " but when my errand is over, I would go 
from the wigwam unseen, as I came." 

" It shall be as you say," replied the chief — " the 
people of Eonee are blind when their chief wills not 
they should see." 

" Let not the chief of the Eonee use the tongue of 
the deceiver;" replied the stranger — "May I go un- 
questioned, even if my speech should be displeasing to 

" The chief of Eonee speaks but one language ;" 
was the reply — "his wigwam is the home of the 
stranger, and he may come and go as it pleases him, as 
into the dwelling of his father." 

Eoneguski now prepared to strike a light, but the 
stranger checked him. 


" I doubt not the faith of the Cherokee brave," he 
said — "but the business I am on requires haste, and 
may be done in darkness, and I would not be seen when 
I leave the wigwam." 

"It is enough;" said Eoneguski — " My ears are 
open, let the stranger speak." 

" I would not speak to your ears only, but to your 
heart also;" replied the stranger. — "I would stir up 
the red blood that warms it — I would cause visions 
of glory to pass before you. — I would invite you to the 
feast of Revenge, and make you drunk with the blood 
of your enemies. — Hark! do you not hear the spirits of 
your fathers calling aloud for vengeance? — See the 
widely extended plains smoking with their blood, and 
whitening with their bones ! — Look around you, and 
behold the red men bending in slavery beneath the pale 
faces! — Do you not feel the galling chains upon your 
own limbs ? — Do you not hear their distant clank as 
they are borne along by your children for countless 
generations? — Are these barren fields the only heritage 
left you by your fathers ? — No ! ascend the highest peak 
of the Blue Mountains, and strain your eyesight to its 
utmost, and still far beyond its reach the fruitful lands in 
broad succession stretch themselves out a portion of your 
birth-right. — And can the warrior sleep with fetters 
upon his limbs while the harvest of Revenge is ripe, and 
ready to be gathered? — when the Great Spirit calls him 
to snatch from the spoiler his ravished birth- right? — 
For shame! for shame! — Shall the daughter of Moytoy 
see the boundless empire of her father reduced by the 
coward sons of the pale face to a space too narrow for the 
hunting ground of a single Cherokee brave ? — And will 
the son of Eonah calmly look upon the wrongs of the 
maiden, in whose veins flows the noblest blood of her 
tribe, and not make the hearts of her oppressors to quail 
at his manly war-cry ? — No ! I see the red men flocking 
from every quarter of the Heavens, like the countless 
wood pigeons. — The earth is darkened, and echoes with 
the noise of their coming. — The hearts of the pale faces 


are as the hearts of women before them ;— and as the 
fire devours the dry grass of the prairie as it sweeps 
over it, so are the pale faces before the countless braves 
of the red men!" 

Surprise chained in silence the tongue of Eonegus- 
ki, as he at length perceived by the dim light, the out- 
line of a tall Indian warrior, in a state of perfect nudity, 
who, not long preserving his low tone of voice, had 
broken out into loud and rapid utterance, accompanied 
by wild and violent gesticulation, and seemed some 
unearthly being amid the sombre gloom by which he 
was surrounded, while his dark bright eyes scintillated 
in the warmth of his declamation, like two luminous 

The chief, availing himself of the first slackening of 
the bold stream of eloquence — "Stranger/' said he, 
"Eoneguski is not intoxicated by the excitement thou 
art pouring into his soul— He is not a fool, to mistake 
for a star of Heaven a meteor of the evening. — He 
feels like thee, the wrongs of his people, and the Great 
Spirit sees his heait, and knows it is no coward fear 
that restrains him from action. But do not our fathers 
tell us, that many hundred moons ago the red men 
were as countless as the stars, when the pale faces 
crossed the great waters, as a feeble handful? — Did 
our fathers then stand before them ?" 

" No !" shouted the stranger, " but our fathers were 
then .overcome, as their posterity have been ever since, 
not by manly force — but by falsehood and guile." 

" But," said Eoneguski, " the white men are now as 
full of falsehood and guile as ever, and if they were 
too much for our fathers, when they had the advantage 
of superior force, what have we to hope for now, when 
the white men have become countless as the stars, and 
the red men have dwindled to a handful?" 

" It is of that I speak," replied the stranger. — " Let 
not the red men trust to the pale faces. — The Great 
Spirit gave to the red man strength and activity, as to 

VOL. II. 14. 


the buffalo and the deer. — He gave him, like all his 
creatures, capacity to endure the changes of season 
without any covering. — The winds of Heaven pierced 
him, and the white snow came upon his naked skin, 
and he knew no unmanly shivering. — The scorching 
rays of the sun fell upon him, and he neither felt a 
blister nor panted with thirst. — The earth produced him 
bread without cultivation — and the woods and waters 
supplied him with meat. — But the white skins came 
among the red men, and taught them their effeminate 
customs, and made them their slaves. — Let the red men 
return to the habits of their fathers. — Let them cast 
aside the clothing which serves but to fetter the limbs 
of freemen. — Let them drink the water as it falls from 
Heaven, unmingled with the intoxicating poisons of the 
white men — and let their meat be the fish and the game 
with which it supplies them. — Then may they defy the 
arts of the pale faces, and retrieve the long lost posses- 
sions of their fathers." 

" The white men have in these things at least been 
the benefactors of the red," replied Eoneguski, "in 
that they have taught them some of the comforts of 
civilized life. It were folly to cast away the benefits 
we have derived from them, because they may have 
wronged and oppressed us. But it would not be enough 
to part with all these to enable us to make successful 
war with the whites. They need no longer resort to 
guile : — they are too strong for us. As the brook 
vainly encounters with its feeble current the broad stream 
of the river, so would the red men be borne down by 
the superior force of the whites." 

" Neither the guile nor the strength of the whites 
shall avail them any thing," replied the stranger. " The 
red men have found in the white men, over the great 
waters, the enemies of their oppressors, and they will 
strengthen the arms of their red brothers — and they 
shall be victorious." 

" And trust you," said Eoneguski, " the weight of a 
warrior upon a flimsy reed 1 — Will it not break under 


him, and pierce his flesh when he leans upon it for 
support ? — To whom think you will your white allies 
give the fields which their strength and valor shall 
assist you to conquer ? — Think you the white men be- 
yond the great waters love their red brothers more than 
those of their own blood I" 

" They are but the instruments of the Great Spirit," 
replied the stranger. — " The elements of nature and 
the hearts of men are alike in His hands, and He hath 
commanded the white skins of England to assist their 
red brothers." 

" And how are we to know that the hand of the 
Great Spirit is with us ?" inquired the chief. 

" Listen," said the stranger, again subduing his voice 
to a whisper — " Listen to the sign. — The pale faces 
have roamed at large over this wide country, and in 
their pride have vainly thought no place inaccessible to 
their accursed lust of territory and power. But there 
is yet a spot which the Great Spirit hath preserved for 
his red children only. — The foot of the pale face hath 
never yet intruded upon its sacred precincts. — Some in- 
visible power hath turned him aside, whenever, in his 
wanderings, he hath happened to approach it. On one 
side flows the Coosa, and on the other the Talla- 
poosa, bending like the bow of a warrior, and uniting 
with the Coosa, almost encircles the Holy Ground. 
There the tall and firm set hickory stands in thick 
clusters, and sends up its leafy branches towards the blue 
sky. — There, should every thing else fail us, the red 
men may retreat and lie down in safety under the broad 
wing of the Great Spirit, and not a pale face can come 
nigh to hurt us." 

" I fear," replied Eoneguski, " this is but a delusion. 
It is a dream that has visited my brother while he 

"A dream!" cried the astonished stranger. — "A 
dream! — Has the chief of Eonee never heard of a 
Prophet far away on the great waters, which men cajl 
the Lakes? 


" I have heard wonderful things of him," said Eone- 

" He is my brother," replied the stranger. " Our 
mother gave to her nation three warriors at a birth ; 
one of them is Elkswattawa, the Prophet of the Lakes, 
and he hath sent me hither from the frozen North, with 
a message from the Great Spirit to his red children in 
this sunny land. — And I," continued the stranger, eleva- 
ting himself to his full dignified height, " I am Tecum- 
seh." He paused — but there was no answer. " Does 
my brother," he added, " doubt the message of the 
Great Spirit?" 

Eoneguski was no stranger to the fame of Tecumseh, 
and brave as he was himself, could not repress a sense 
of inferiority, and a feeling of awe in the presence of 
the great man who had dignified by his valor and abili- 
ties the complexion he bore. These feelings were in no 
degree diminished by the circumstances under which 
they met. It was the stillness of midnight, and an 
inhabitant of a region countless miles distant from 
Eonee, was standing before the Cherokee ehief, in his 
own wigwam. He had glided into it as noiselessly and 
imperceptibly as a spirit, and might, if he had so desir- 
ed, have slain its sleeping tenant, without waking him 
from his slumbers. 

But Eoneguski did not for a moment hesitate whether 
he should lend himself to the schemes of the Shawnee 
chief. Yet he had no wish to incur his displeasure, 
or be wanting in marks of that respect he really felt 
for him. He was therefore quite at a loss so to frame 
his observations to the now undisguised hero as that 
they might, without flattering his hopes of obtaining 
a proselyte, manifest towards him his personal good 

" Eoneguski is proud," he at length replied, " to look 
upon a warrior so renowned as Tecumseh, and feels 
that his wigwam is honored by his presence.— But he 
may not consent to join with him in taking the war- 
club against his great father at Washington." 


" He that is not for us, is against us," said the Shawnee 
chief, loudly and fiercely — " When then Tecumseh 
and Eoneguski meet again, it will be as enemies. — 
Some slight remains of weak compassion would linger 
around the heart of Tecumseh when he saw a pale 
face prostrate before him, begging for his life. — But for 
the dastard red skin who had fought for her enemies, or 
had refused to lend his arm in the struggles of his 
country, he would trample him in the earth, and smile 
as he writhed beneath his tread." 

" I have been deaf to your persuasions — and your 
threats are not more effectual," replied Eoneguski. 

" Perhaps," continued the Shawnee chief, contemp- 
tuously, " your degenerate love of the whites may be 
gratified by the surrender of your guest. — Trust me, 
the scalp of Tecumseh would be well paid for by your 
father at Washington." 

" Tempt me not too far," replied Eoneguski, " lest 
the world have cause to pronounce Tecumseh a fool, 
and Eoneguski a villain." 

"By Heaven," said Tecumseh, approaching the Che- 
rokee chief, and raising the tomahawk he had all along 
held in his hand, "it would be well thus to terminate 
thy scruples." The bright blade passed before the eyes 
of Eoneguski, but no quick drawing of the breath, or 
hurried palpitation of the heart, indicated to Tecum- 
seh that he had stirred any emotion in the bosom of 
his host. " You are brave," he said, " and Tecumseh 
would fain have such to battle beside him in the cause 
of freedom. But he is a fool who spends his labor in 
vain attempts to move the firm-rooted rock, — We met as 
friends — from henceforth we are enemies.— Yet I hold 
you to your pledge of hospitality, and claim to go as L 
came, unseen of any one. — Eoneguski must not follow . 
me, even with his eyes." 

So saying, Tecumseh left the hut, and the scrupu- 
lous generosity of Eoneguski restrained him from look- 
ing out to see whither he went. 

The Eonee chief endeavored once more to compose 


himself to sleep, but the exciting 1 interview through 
which he had passed, long kept him waking. 

The next morning his mind reverted, as to a vision, 
to the events of the night. He could not realize as a 
fact that he had holden actual converse with the North- 
ern warrior, of whom fame said so much. But the 
doubts that lingered in his mind were fully removed by 
the stories told by others, and the otherwise unaccount- 
able absence of Chuheluh, and three or four more of 
the inhabitants of the village, including his own slave 
Mercury. The truth was, that not a wigwam in 
Eonee had been left unvisited by the Shawnee chief be- 
tween late bed-time and an hour or two before day, and 
Eoneguski's was neither the first nor the last. With 
each tenant he stipulated that he should not be watched, 
a stipulation easily made, by appealing to the pride of 
hospitality, upon which all the savage tribes greatly 
value themselves ; and even Eoneguski did not suspect 
its sole object to have been to enable the Shawnee chief 
to glide unseen into other tenements. Tecumseh's first 
visit had been to Chuheluh, by whom he was not unex- 
pected, and from whom he received such hints, as to the 
tenants of the respective wigwams, as enabled him to 
suit his style to the characters of the persons he was ad- 
dressing. But even with this advantage his success 
was by no means flattering, and, finding himself unable 
to raise the great mass of the town, the Northern war- 
rior determined to take with him, at once, to his rendez- 
vous at Tookabatcha, such individuals as were disposed 
to enlist their fortunes in the great cause to which he 
had devoted himself. 

He had already succeeded in stirring up the great 
body of the Creeks and other Southern tribes, while his 
brother, the Prophet, was, with equal success, infusing 
into the Northwestern hoards the sanguine hope with 
which their own bosoms were filled, that, by a general 
revolt of the whole Indian family, the race of Anglo- 
Americans would be entirely extirpated, and the coun- 
try restored to its ancient possessors. 


The last attempt of Tecumseh had been with the 
Cherokees, and gliding through the nation like a 
spirit, visible only to such as he desired might see him, 
carefully sounded almost every individual. The last 
night of this dangerous, bold and difficult mission 
was spent in Eonee, after which he retraced his steps 
into what is now the State of Alabama, to his head 
quarters at Tookabatclm. On his route thither he was 
joined, according to previous concert, by such of the 
Cherokees as he had been able to seduce from the gene- 
ral loyalty of the tribe to the United States, scarcely 
exceeding in all forty or fifty, together with Mercury, 
the slave of Eoneguski, who, apprehensive of punish- 
ment for some recent villanies in which he had been 
detected, availed himself of this method of escape. 

At Tookabatcha, Tecumseh held a final consultation 
with his Southern confederates, when it was arranged 
that Weatherford and the Little Warrior, and others of 
inferior note, should conduct the military operations of 
the Southern department, and that Monohoe should be 
the great prophet of the South, as Elkswattawa was of 
the North. 

Having completed these arrangements, this extraor- 
dinary being returned northwardly, to fire the train pre- 
viously laid, by which the whole United States was to 
be kindled into war. But he was lead thither, by an 
overruling Providence, to meet the fate prepared for 
himself, his restless and ambitious brother, and hundreds 
of their hapless and deluded followers ; — to furnish, in 
his fall at the battle of the Thames, an imperishable lau- 
rel for the brow of a gallant American, and to transmit 
to him, as a sobriquet, the distinguished name of— Te- 



A cry of Areouski broke our sleep, 
And rapid, rapid whoops came o'er the deep, 
And deathfully their thunders seem'd to sweep ; 
Till utter darkness swallowed up the sight, 
As if a shower of blood had quench'd the fiery fight. 


Meantime Thompson was carrying on his double 
operations in different parts of the Cherokee country, 
but was much more successful in winning many of the 
savages to the benign influence of the doctrines of the 
Cross, than to the adoption of the cruel scheme of mur- 
dering their white neighbors. His clerical duties kept 
him much from Tesumtoe, and thus afforded him a 
reasonable excuse to Gideon for the very slow pro- 
gress he was making in his matters. But that impatient 
youth was not neglectful of his own interests, notwith- 
standing the little encouragement he received. 

As for Eoneguski, the unsettled state of public affairs, 
and the vast consequences involved in the present crisis, 
kept him, as a faithful chieftain, constantly watchful 
over his people, lest some powerful excitement might 
hurry them into acts of irremediable imprudence. No 
concerns exclusively personal, however important, was, 
in his estimation, a sufficient excuse at this time for 
a day's absence from his people, and he was therefore 
continually passing among them, like a guardian spi- 
rit, endeavoring to keep their minds in proper temper. 
But it was not many weeks after the visit of Tecumseh, 
when tidings reached Eonee that the Creeks had alrea- 
dy commenced the work of destruction upon the white 
settlements. Then did the native thirst for blood begin 
to manifest itself among the savage charge of Eonegus- 


ki, in extreme restlessness and neglect of the pursuits of 
peace. Already he began to fear his power of restrain- 
ing their bloody propensities was nearly exhausted, 
when it was announced that their great father at Wash- 
ington had called upon his red children to fight for 

The invited guests never flocked more joyously to a 
marriage banquet, than did the people of Eonee rally 
around their chief, no longer reluctant to lead them to 
battle. Fierce yells rang through the village, and with 
frantic gesticulations, such as distinguished the ancient 
Bacchanals, were they hourly running up and down the 
streets. The infection spread throughout the Cherokee 
country, including Sugar Town and Tesumtoe, and war- 
clubs and red sticks were paraded in every direction. — 
But who was to lead the people of Tesumtoe ? Their 
hereditary chief was a female, and dangerous jealousies 
and bloodshed were the usual fruits of an election. — 
Gideon had resolved to offer himself as their leader, but 
one of the critical events to which Thompson looked 
was now come. He was not a man to be unconscious 
of the danger of his situation, but he trusted finally to 
Gideon's friendship as a sheet anchor, to save him, 
should matters come to the worst. With fear and trem- 
bling, he determined upon a last assault upon Eonegus- 
ki, and, hastening to Eonee, represented to him his own 
influence with the Little Deer, and the danger of her 
being lost to the chieftain without his assistance, offer- 
ing, at the same time, a positive assurance of success, if 
he would yet change his side in the coming strife. 

The chief did not turn upon him, as he had appre- 
hended, with any furious burst of anger, but elevating 
himself to his full height, and fixing upon the trembling 
coward a look of disdain, pointed to the sun. 

" The Great Spirit," he said — "has marked for him 
his path through the sky — onward he pursues it forever 
and forever. — Such is Eoneguski. — Where the Great 
Spirit points the way, thither he follows. — No frown 


shall terrify him ; no smile shall win him from his 

So saying, and without waiting for a reply from the 
astounded missionary, he passed on. 

Thompson now made his utmost speed back to Te- 
sumtoe, resolving seriously, as the only plan from which 
he had any thing to hope, to strive his utmost to bring 
about the marriage between Gideon and the Little Deer ; 
and to make sure of taking one, at least, from the strength 
of the American army, he represented to Gideon the ad- 
vantage he might derive in his suit, by remaining behind 
and urging it, while Eoneguski was absent engaged in 
battle. The idea seemed plausible, and Gideon adopted 
it, declining to offer himself as a leader to the people of 
Tesumtoe, who finally united their forces with those 
of Eoneguski. Their example was followed by the 
people of Sugar Town, whose aged chief, Santuchee, 
was unfitted by infirmity for the fatigues of the campaign. 

These circumstances placed under the command of 
Eoneguski more than three hundred warriors. With 
these he set out upon his march, being joined by the re- 
spective parties as he passed by Sugar Town and Te- 
sumtoe, on his way to the Great Look- Out Mountain, 
which, like the Pilot or Ararat, has been, from time 
immemorial, one of the objects by which the Indians 
guide themselves in their wanderings. Following the 
eastern base of this mountain, and passing by several 
other towns, Eoneguski came to Canuhtown, one of the 
southern frontier villages of his nation, where the Path- 
killer, one of the oldest chiefs of the Overhill Chero- 
kees, had already established himself with a consider- 
able force, with which Eoneguski united his own. 

They had not been long in this position when they 
learned from their scouts, that the Creeks, and other 
hostile tribes, were flocking like pigeons to their roost, 
to a place not very distant, in numbers sufficient to over- 
whelm them. The Pathkiller, whose name is indica- 
tive of his speed, as well as his great power of endu- 


ranee, immediately flew in person to the American 
General to inform him of the danger that threatened 
his allies, entrusting the command to Eoneguski during 
his absence. The Pathkiller soon returned with suf- 
ficient reinforcements, and several bloody battles were 
fought in quick succession, in which, while Eoneguski 
distinguished himself as among the bravest and most 
skilful warriors, the result gave him no reason to doubt 
the correctness of his judgment, or regret his determi- 
nation in the choice of his party. 

Amidst multiplied disadvantages, and under the most 
unfavorable circumstances, did the genius and bravery 
of the American Commander-in-chief, time after time, 
snatch victory from the very grasp of his enemies. So 
numerous and decided were the defeats experienced at 
his hands by the hostile savages, that they were at 
length induced superstitiously to believe that in the 
person of Andrew Jackson, General Anthony Wayne, 
the hero of the third part of a century past, had verified 
his threat of rising from the dead, and coming to chas- 
tise their insolence and misguided rebellion against 
the United States. Still they maintained their confi- 
dence in Monohoe, who continued to prophesy to them 
smooth things, and, in the face of repeated defeats, 
to promise them ultimate success. Incantations, like 
those of the Saga at Sugar Town, were continually 
practised by him to impose upon the superstitious cre- 
dulity of his deluded followers. 

"The Holy Ground," he would tell them — "still 
remains unprofaned by the foot of a white man, and 
in their final stand on that sacred spot, the Great Spirit, 
if not before, will work out for his red children a mir- 
aculous deliverance." 

After several months fighting, with some few and 
very short intervals of comparative repose, the infatu- 
ated savages began to gather towards the ark of 
promised safety, panting for rest to their war-tost 
spirits. But, like the desperate gamester, who flatters 
himself there is a magical virtue in his last piece of coin, 


and trembles for the moment when he must put it up, 
and witness the gratifying fulfilment of his expectations, 
or the final wreck of his hopes, so did the disheartened 
savages cast a wistful eye of trembling confidence to- 
wards the Holy Ground, yet hesitated to take there their 
final stand ; preferring the light of a sickly hope to the 
gloom of despair. 

The Tallapoosa River, just above the place recog- 
nised by the Indians as the Holy Ground, makes a 
most extraordinary bend, forming a striking resem- 
blance to a large horse-shoe, called, in their language, 
Tohopeka. This peninsula, if cannon and boats were 
excluded from the attack, was assailable but at one nar- 
row point, where it joined the main land by an isthmus 
not more than three hundred yards in width. It caught 
the eye of the savages as the place where the predic- 
tions of their prophets were to be fulfilled ; — and where 
they might make their immoveable stand, and exclude 
the whites forever from the Holy Ground. With a skill 
not looked for in savages, but which these had learned 
by severe experience, they fortified this narrow neck of 
land against the approach of an enemy. The lofty 
timber with which the isthmus was covered, they cut 
down, one tree upon another, through the openings in 
which they were enabled to make a well-directed fire 
upon an assailing foe, while a thick covert was provided 
for themselves against the shot of an enemy. With pru- 
dent foresight they further provided, in case of the worst, 
a means of retreat in their canoes, which were arranged 
in great numbers around the peninsula. 

With these preparations, the Southern limb of that 
great army of red men, which had been called into be- 
ing mainly by the restless and ambitious genius of a 
single individual, awaited, with desperate courage, the 
expected attack. Hitherto the Americans, in their nu- 
merous victories, had only scotched the snake, not killed 
it ; now their insidious enemy had, as it were, coiled 
himself for his last desperate spring, and the oppor- 
tunity was presented to crush him forever. 


Not long was the trial of patience to which the In- 
dians were subjected. They had scarcely completed 
their arrangements, when the tall, gaunt form of Gene- 
ral Jackson appeared in the distance, mounted on a su- 
perb charger, at the head of a mingled force of whites 
and savages. With the stroke of his sagacious eye, 
the American General at once saw the advantages of 
the position occupied by the enemy, and comprehend- 
ed the best means of counteracting them. An elevation 
in the ground, at the most suitable distance for the ac- 
tion of the few pieces of small artillery in the service, 
was selected, and his battery erected upon it. He per- 
ceived the arrangements made for escape, in case the 
foe should find themselves unable to maintain their 
strong position, and deliberated, for an instant, whether 
it would be better to leave them this coward hope, by 
which the desperation of their resistance would be di- 
minished, or, by removing it, force upon them the alter- 
natives of death, conquest, or submission — and thus, by 
increasing the hazard of success, render it more effectual, 
if obtained. He determined upon the latter course, and 
to that end despatched Eoneguski with his command 
with instructions, while the attention of the hostile In- 
dians was occupied in the defence of their breastwork, 
to swim unperceived to their canoes, and bring them 
away. To cut off every hope of retreat, a party was 
sent to the opposite side of the river to intercept any 
who might have the hardihood to attempt escape by 

These arrangements being completed, the deep- 
mouthed cannon began to pour upon the breastwork 
their destructive contents ; while the gallant Montgome- 
ry, at the head of his detachment, advanced to the 
charge. The leaden hail from the rifles of the savages, 
fell thickly upon this devoted party, but they pressed 
forward, to make a lodgment within the enemy's works. 
The first to place his footsteps upon the unsure footing 
afforded by the interwoven boughs of the inartificial 
breastwork, was Montgomery himself; but scarcely 

VOL. II. 15. 


was his plume seen to rise aloft, when it fell, stained 
with the blood pouring from a mortal wound in his 
head. Another and another followed their intrepid 
leader, but to share with him death and glory. 

A desire to avenge their comrades, now added to 
the incentives of those who were behind to rush on- 
wards, and presently a living multitude was making its 
way over the trunks and branches of trees, against the 
slackened fire of their adversaries. Among the fore- 
most of these was a tall, sinewy man, on whom time 
had left many distinct traces, but had not extinguished 
the fire of his eye, nor much abated his strength, origi- 
nally great. He was the first to make a leap from the 
breastwork, but his foot becoming entangled among the 
branches of a tree, he fell within the enemy s works. 
Instantly the fingers of a savage were twisted in his 
grey hair, and the tomahawk was uplifted to dash 
into his brain. The yell of the savage, as he prepared 
to strike, was answered by a correspondent one imme- 
diately above him, which, for an instant, arrested his 
attention ; when, as quick as thought, a man precipitated 
himself from the breastwork, and received into his 
shoulder the tomahawk destined for the head of his 
prostrate comrade. The shock disengaged the hand 
of the savage from the hair of the veteran, who, spring- 
ing upon his feet, in turn saved his deliverer from far- 
ther injury, by laying the Indian dead with a blow of 
his musket. 

A moments freedom from immediate danger enabled 
the two recently united in imminent peril to recognise 
each other, and " Mr. Aymor," escaped from one lip, 
while " John Welch," was uttered in almost breathless 
surprise, by the other. But there was no time for 
conversation, the blood was pouring from the wounded 
shoulder of Welch in a rapid stream, and already 
objects began to swim around him. He fell, and no 
ties of friendship were at such a crisis sufficient to divert 
a soldier from the onward path of duty. The Ameri- 
cans had now gained in considerable numbers a footing 


on the inner side of the breastwork, and were driving 
back the savage force towards the river. Duty and 
inclination both called upon Aymor to add his bayonet 
to the wall of bristling steel, gradually enclosing the 
foe in a narrower circle. He left Welch weltering in 
his blood, and, as he believed, never to rise again. 

Meantime Eoneguski and his party had glided down 
to the river on each side of the Horseshoe, and like so 
many water-moccasins, dropped into the stream. No 
sensible agitation of the water indicated the advance of 
these expert swimmers, who, while the hostile Indians 
were occupied in the defence of their breastwork, entirely 
unperceived bore off every canoe, and placed it where 
it could be commanded by the fire of the American 

This task being completed, the Cherokee chief fol- 
lowed the track marked by the slain, and sprung into 
the works just in time to sustain the Americans, as 
the enemy, having retreated to the river, and finding 
their canoes gone, had rallied in desperation, and rol- 
ed back the tide of battle upon their pursuers. A 
deadly fire poured in upon the adversaries by Eonegus- 
ki and his party, forced them to recoil, and regained the 
doubtful advantage. 

As yet the foe maintained themselves in numbers 
upon another part of the works, where their courage 
and enthusiasm were sustained by Monohoe, the prophet, 
who, in the face of the American artillery, most gro- 
tesquely dressed, was practising his incantations, and giv- 
ing to his followers confident assurances of victory. Ever 
and anon as a cannon-ball severed a bough on which he 
stood, he would entirely disappear, to the dismay of those 
who trusted in his Divine mission, but rising unhurt, or 
concealing his injuries, with a triumphant yell he would 
boldly resume a conspicuous position. Sometimes he 
would spread forth his hands with shouts of defiance 
towards the Americans, and then leap from bough to 
bough, with the activity of a squirrel, and thus by the 
most fearless exposure of his person, give the strongest 


assurance of his own confidence in the sacred character 
to which he pretended. 

Among the Cherokees who were fighting for the 
United States, was one who, on account of having acci- 
dentally appropriated to himself the cast-off boots of 
one of the officers, was known in the army by the 
nickname of " Shoe-Boots." But in the fanciful spirit 
which seems to direct that people in their choice of 
names, he had assumed for himself that of the " Game 
Cock." He laid claim to the extravagant bravery of 
that bird, and had made himself quite expert in the 
imitation of his crowing ■ besides this he garnished the 
upper part of his person with feathers, and was in truth 
one of those light-hearted persons who are constantly 
cheerful, and meet danger with indifference, because 
they seem to be unconscious of its existence. Shoe- 
Boots, (or the Game Cock,) formed a part of the corps 
of reserve, and was quite restless under the inactivity 
to which he was doomed. Observing at a distance the 
astonishing boldness and good fortune of Monohoe, he 
remarked to an officer standing near him, that, with a 
single fire of his rifle, he could put an end to the 
strife. " Let me," said he, " but bore with a bullet the 
false tongue of Monohoe, and those dogs who trust in 
him will fight no longer." 

Without waiting for an answer, but greatly tickled 
with his own idea, Shoe-Boots ran off in the direction 
of the subject of his remarks, regardless of the shower 
of bullets falling around him, until he came within 
" point blanc" shot of Monohoe, when he stopped, and 
elevating his rifle, took deliberate aim at the mouth of 
the prophet. The bullet, true to the mark, took effect, 
and Monohoe fell, to the horror of those fighting by his 

Had Shoe-Boots been contented with his exploit, 
and immediately retreated, all might have been well. 
But perceiving his success, and proud of his achieve- 
ment, he struck his arms against his side, in imitation 
of the flapping of a chicken's wings, and crowed oft 


and loudly. But his triumph was exceedingly brief, for 
the savages, although disheartened, were also enraged 
at the fall of their prophet, and made one general and 
deadly discharge of their rifles, and retreated from their 
breastworks. Like the ancient Parthians, their retreat- 
ing fire was not the least destructive, and Shoe-Boots 
was among its victims ; and, like the nervous Judge of 
Israel, the intrepid Indian found triumph and death in 
the same instant. As Shoe-Boots had foreseen, the 
hopes of the enemy expired with Monohoe, and nothing 
like regular resistance was longer maintained. Still 
they asked no quarters, but from the thick coverts 
within which they were enabled to conceal themselves, 
stragglers continued to annoy the American army. 

The Commander-in-chief, now humanely anxious to 
prevent farther carnage on either side, desired to commu- 
nicate to the enemy under a flag of truce his benevolent 
purposes. But in the present temper of the savages 
there was little reason to hope that respect would be ac- 
corded to that sacred symbol in civilized warfare, and the 
post of its bearer would be one of extreme danger. Eo- 
neguski removed all difficulty by offering himself to the 
task — was accepted, and proceeded on his hazardous er- 
rand. Aymor with others kept within such distance that 
they might render aid if necessary. Eoneguski had 
just proclaimed in a loud voice, and in the Indian tongue, 
the message of mercy, when Aymor discovered an old 
Indian thrusting out his gun from an ambuscade, and 
levelling it at the speaker. Instantly his own was 
directed against the head of the sly savage, who was 
too intently engaged in his object to perceive him. 
With haste Aymor drew the trigger, and anticipated 
the deadly purpose of the assailant. The convulsive 
grasp of death discharged the rifle of the purposed 
assassin, but his bullet flew aimless. Eoneguski and 
Aymor had only time to discover at the same moment 
that it was their old enemy Chuheluh, to whom Heaven 
had awarded the just fate of perishing by his own devi- 
ces, when numberless bullets, flying in that direction, 


one of which slightly wounded Eoneguski in the breast, 
convinced them that their post was hardly tenable. The 
unequal contest was now resumed, in which the hope- 
forsaken savages seemed to court destruction, and it is 
probable they would have been in this gratified to a 
man, had not night spread over them her mantle of pro- 

Aymor repaired to the spot where he left Welch, 
whom, beyond his most sanguine hope, he found still 
breathing,, but utterly insensible. With the aid of 
friends he conveyed him to the hospital of the Ameri- 
can army, and put him in the reach of surgical assis- 
tance. He obtained permission to be with him while 
the army remained stationary, and had the satisfaction 
of rinding the efforts of the surgeon soon successful in 
restoring him to sensation. The promise of recovery 
quickly succeeded, and before Aymor was forced to 
leave him mutual explanations had taken place between 
them, in which it appeared that Welch had, since his 
last interview with. Atha, led the life of an unhappy 
wanderer, at a loss what to do until he encountered the 
army of General Jackson, with which he had united 
himself, partly from patriotism, and partly to find ex- 
citement for a depressed mind. For Aymor's part, as 
soon as the Indian war had fairly broken out, he found 
his old military passion returning, and with his former 
rank of sergeant, entered General Graham's corps as a 
volunteer. This corps had not yet united with the 
Southern army, but Aymor had been sent to reconnoitre, 
and had fallen in with General Jackson just in time for 
the battle of Tohopeka. 

It was agreed that as soon as Welch was recovered, 
he should repair to Aymor's residence, on the Homony, 
and in the mean time Aymor should keep to himself 
the knowledge of his existence, lest it might not be 
well received by some of the Indians present, and far- 
ther lest as his recovery was yet doubtful, hope might be 
excited in the minds of those dear to him, only to render 
their disappointment the more severe. The latter con- 


sideration acquired additional consequence from what 
Aymor told Welch of the existence of his mother, and 
the harassing state of hope and fear in which she had 
so long been kept concerning him. After these expla- 
nations the two friends were compelled to separate, Ay- 
mor leaving Welch with the rest of the wounded, while 
he himself went on with the army in the fulfilment of 
his duties as a soldier. 



Unconquer'd — yet when at his side 
His boldest and his wisest died ; 
Yet he escap'd — though he might hear 
The hunters round him uproar make, 
And bullets whisper'd death was near ; 
Nor yet his limbs had leam'd to quake, 
Nor his heart caught the taint of fear. 


To an opinion once deliberately formed the mind 
clings with the grasp of death, and the tenacity with 
which it is holden is generally in a ratio with its op- 
position to reason. The cause probably is, that such 
opinions are originally adopted merely because they are 
agreeable, and being so, their identity with truth is not 
much examined. They are chosen by the mind, as it 
were, from affection, and not of right, and some passion, 
always more sensitive than the understanding, would 
be violated in their surrender. There is nothing more 
deplorabty wretched and naked than the human mind, 
when stripped of some comfortable robe of opinion, in 
which she has seen fit to array herself, stolen by false- 
hood from truth, and officiously lent her. Overwhelm- 
ed with shame, she droops into inactivity, and scarcely 
makes an effort to seek for more substantial and tenable 
clothing. Or, to drop the figure, when some reliance 
for security from danger, which has been looked to 
with confidence, proves, at the crisis, entirely unavail- 
ing, a person is prone to give up in despair, instead of 
striving to obtain some better depcndance. 

It is in a contrary course of conduct that elevated 
minds are distinguished from the vulgar, and that cour- 
age and genius make their most striking displays. The 


credulous hope entertained by the hostile savages, that 
there was a magic virtue in the Holy Ground, which 
had not been tested, was now generally known among 
the Americans, and had not escaped the ears of the 
Commander-in-chief. Rumor also said, a few days 
after their signal defeat at the Horseshoe, that they were 
already embodied in this fortress of their strength, with 
a determination to succeed, or re-enact, with increased 
ferocity, the scenes of Tohopeka. Thither the Ameri- 
can General resolved immediately to pursue them, and 
follow up the blow he had just given, before they had 
time to recover from its stunning influence. With this 
view, as soon as arrangements could be made suitable 
to the decisive character of the movement, he took up 
his march for the Holy Ground. 

The dauntless Weatherford, the brave but unsuccess- 
ful hero of so many battles, strove in vain to infuse his 
own confident spirit into such of his compatriots as were 
left after their defeat at Tohopeka. But the voice of 
Monohoe was wanting, to wake, with its mystic spell, 
their languishing hopes, by dispensing imaginary pro- 
mises from Heaven, with a jugglery that defied detec- 
tion. Nor was it merely that his voice was wanting to 
summon up their blood, but, like the primitive Chris- 
tians, they were laboring under that depression which 
necessarily followed the beholding him, to whom they 
had implicitly trusted as their Saviour, dying like a 
common man, and consigned to corruption. The shep- 
herd had been smitten, and the sheep were consequently 
scattered in dismay. With Monohoe fell the confi- 
dence of those who had heretofore believed in his pro- 
mises and predictions, and at the same time was their 
faith shaken in the mystic security of the Holy Ground. 

The efforts of Weatherford were ineffectual to rally 
there a number of followers sufficient, by their natural 
force, to make even a show of resistance. But one hope, 
therefore, remained, and even his masculine mind be- 
came disposed to cling to it, as the drowning mariner 
seizes upon the slightest object floating upon the surface 


of the great deep, in the desperate trust that it may pos- 
sibly prove the means of his deliverance. 

The last hope of Weatherford and his followers was, 
that their prophets might not after all be lying prophets, 
and that the Great Spirit would, indeed, by his Almigh- 
ty power, retain for his red children the exclusive pos- 
session of the Holy Ground. He therefore gathered 
around him the small group that remained of the 
countless force, with which he had, a few months be- 
fore, gone forth to battle, to watch with composure the 
result — to witness with triumph some signal destruction 
of their enemies, as soon as they should place their un- 
hallowed feet upon the consecrated ground — or yield 
themselves, with calm resignation, to resistless power — 
resolved to encounter, with unshrinking fortitude, any 
tortures to which vengeance might subject them. The 
experiment, pregnant with the fate of themselves and 
posterity, was now to be made. 

All that could be done, in their own strength, had 
been already tried by the red people, to reclaim the do- 
minion their ancestors had, for moons without num- 
ber, maintained over the boundless continent, and be- 
queathed to them. Their efforts had been worse than 
fruitless, and unless an Almighty power now wrought 
for them, the empire of the whites must be established 
forever. That the destruction of the whites might be 
as general and effectual as possible, Weatherford and 
his party took their stand on the southern extremity of 
the Holy Ground, that, in the pursuit, the whole Ame- 
rican army might be decoyed, like an entire flock of 
birds, into a vast net. 

Meantime the American General pressed on with his 
victorious army, anticipating a last conflict, more se- 
vere than all that had preceded it. With that cha- 
racteristic foresight which so happily mingled with his 
natural boldness of temper, he was ever on the qui vive 
against an ambuscade, the favorite artifice of savage 
warfare. But all was stillness and desolation as he 
passed along, as if some destructive blast had swept be- 


fore him. on his path, and borne away every hostile crea- 
ture, as the dried leaves are carried by the winds of au- 
tumn. The villages were tenantless, and not an un- 
friendly Indian of any age or sex was visible. 

The army of the United States entered the mysterious 
covert of the sacred woods — their unhallowed feet were 
pressing upon the mystic soil — and yet the Heavens 
were calm above them — nor did the indignant earth open 
to receive them. No angry cloud muttered its thun- 
ders — nor did any sudden quaking of nature indicate 
the presence of an avenging Deity. Onward the army 
passed over the rich unctuous ground, and beneath the 
massy branches of those time-rooted hickories, that had 
waved for ages unseen by the eye of a single white 
man — and yet not a red skin was found in this sanctua- 
ry of their hopes. 

The savages at length beheld their advance ; they 
perceived that the whole American army was within 
the sacred precincts, and in a few moments more would 
have traversed its whole extent. The smile with 
which Hope had continued to cheer them was now 
suddenly withdrawn, and they contemplated in sadness 
the last wave of her pinion, as she flew forever from 
he sacred grove, of which she had been so long and so 
constantly a tenant. 

The savages in their turn, became visible to their ene- 
mies, and, as quick as thought, the American army was 
in order of battle, and making preparations for a despe- 
rate conflict. Courage and fear were stirring the hearts 
of the brave and the timid, in the immediate prospect of 
a bloody strife, when a single Indian warrior was seen 
advancing towards the American Commander-in-chief, 
from the hostile ranks, with slow but resolute steps. 
No weapon was in his hand, save an unstrung bow, 
which, with down cast eyes, he seemed contemplating 
as he moved along. 

" I am Weatherford," he said, as he approached the 
General. — " I am in your power ; do with me as you 
please. — I am a soldier. — I have done to your nation 


all the harm that I could. — I have fought them, and 
fought them bravely. — If I had an army, I would fight 
them still. — I am the last among my people to say we 
will fight no longer. — But I have no army. — My peo- 
ple are all gone. — Nothing is left to me but to weep 
over the misfortunes of my nation." 

Struck with the noble bearing of the speaker, the 
boldness and force, yet deep pathos, of his remarks, the 
General replied — 

" I do not ask you to lay down your arms. — The 
United States does not solicit you for peace. — But the 
terms on which your nation can be saved have been 
already disclosed to you. — Upon these, and no other, 
can peace be granted. — But if it is your wish to continue 
the war, no advantage shall be taken of you. — Although 
in my power, you may yet go free — you are at liberty 
to join the war party. — But remember, if hereafter you 
are taken in arms, you will have forfeited your life. — If 
you really desire peace, remain where you are, and you 
shall be protected." 

" Now you may well address me thus ;" replied the 
undaunted warrior — " there was a time when I had a 
choice, and could have answered you. — I have none 
now. — Even hope has ended. — Our grain and cattle are 
all wasted and destroyed, and our women and children 
are perishing with hunger. — Once I could animate my 
warriors to battle, but I cannot animate the dead. — My 
warriors can no longer hear my voice — their bones are 
at Talledega, Tallushatchee, Emucfaw, and Tohopeka. 
— Weatherford comes not thus unarmed without reflec- 
tion. — While hope remained, I never left my post, or 
supplicated peace. — But my people are gone, and I now 
ask it for my nation and for myself. — You are a brave 
man — I rely on your generosity." 

With Weatherford' s submission, whose example was 
followed by all that remained of the hostile tribes, ex- 
cept a few who retreated to the wilds of Florida, the 
war was ended, and a treaty having been entered into, 
by which the boundary lines of the several tribes of 


Indians were settled, Eoneguski and the rest of the dis- 
banded followers of General Jackson, returned to their 
respective homes. 

In the conditions of the treaty Eoneguski was desi- 
rous that the noble stream having its source in the 
State of South Carolina, passing through a corner 
of North Carolina, cutting, for a considerable extent, 
three other large States, and finally losing itself in 
the great Ohio River, should, with the lands lying 
along it, be acknowledged as the property of his tribe. 
This claim was founded upon an alleged ancient pos- 
session, in proof of which tradition was referred to, 
as well as the name of the stream itself, being the 
Cherokee or Tennessee River. But Eoneguski was 
compelled to acquiesce in terms much less advan- 
tageous. Through the valley of this great stream had 
been the path of Tecumseh, in his late fatal visit to 
the Southern tribes of Indians, and the great politician, 
as well as warrior, of the United States, negotiating 
with his yet unsheathed sword, dripping with hostile 
blood, declared that a communication so dangerously 
inviting between the Northern and Southern Indians, 
must be closed forever. From his flat there was no 
appeal, and the treaty was concluded upon the terms 
he prescribed. His was a spirit destined to impress 
its genius upon the times in which he lived, and 
control, by its force, the current of events. By its 
association with him, a tree before unknown in story, 
has usurped the place of the laurel, and the Hickory, 
which abounded in one of the scenes of his numerous 
military triumphs, has become consecrated to Fame. 
He has, in his extraordinary career, made it alike the 
badge of martial glory and of civic honor — and his 
death is destined to give it yet farther dignity, and ren- 
der its leaf emblematic of an imperishable name. 

VOL. II. — 16. 



Had she been true — 

If Heaven would make me such another world, 

Of one entire and perfect chrysolite — 

I'd not have sold her for it. 


It is in the approving smile of woman that the war- 
rior of all complexions, and all ages, has sought the 
reward of his toils, dangers, and self-denials. At the 
feet of a mother, a sister, a wife, or a mistress, are laid 
his blood-stained laurels, to wither or to flourish, as she 
may determine. 

Towards Tesumtoe, then, on his way homeward, did 
the heart of Eoneguski turn with hope and fear, both 
awakened to increased intensity. " She will no longer 
despise me as a coward," he said to himself — " and 
will rejoice that my hand is not stained with the blood 
of John Welch, when she learns that he is her own 

Months had now elapsed since unexplained scruples 
had ruffled the even current of his wooing, and he 
trembled to learn that they had been confirmed or aban- 
doned. His generous nature had never for a moment 
attached suspicion to Gideon, neither had his worst fears 
pointed to the danger of a rival. Doubly severe, then, 
was his trial, when, arriving at Tesumtoe, he learned 
that the Little Deer had not only resolved to extinguish 
his hopes, but had actually become the wife of his 
treacherous friend. The influence gained over her by 
Thompson had been successfully used for inflaming the 
objections of prudence and religion to her union with 
Eoneguski, and exalting into duty and necessity an 
alliance with Gideon. 


Availing themselves of the first moment of weak- 
ness, the ungenerous lover and the unprincipled priest, 
had riveted upon their victim a chain which nothing 
but death could sever. Thompson married them, ac- 
cording to the formulary of that church of which he 
was a priest, and the bride a member. Yenacona was 
induced, by a number of considerations, reluctantly to 
witness a rite which held, in her estimation, the rank of 
a sacrament, performed by one whose divine authority 
she could not fully recognise. 

It was not long after the solemnization of these nup- 
tials, that intelligence reached Tesumtoe of the total 
overthrow of the hostile savages, and Thompson con- 
ceiving his situation no longer safe, made a precipitate 
retreat from the Indian nation, leaving Gideon to man- 
age his affairs in the best way he could. From thence- 
forth obscurity again rested upon the fate of the mis- 
sionary — he was never more heard of, and it is not im- 
possible that, like many other cowards, he ran into the 
grasp of danger in his very endeavor to flee from it — 
that he perished in some of the mountain wilds by the 
hand of some straggling Indian, moved by covetousness, 
or perhaps revenge, as the friend of Eoneguski, for the 
part Thompson was supposed to have taken in causing 
his disappointment with the Little Deer. 

Language cannot describe the stunning effect upon 
the Indian chief of learning the total wreck of his 
hopes ; the annihilation of what had been to him, 
as an individual, for so long a time, the mainspring 
of action. But no exclamation escaped him — silent 
and downcast he pursued his way homeward, like 
one disgraced and discomfited ; and not as a victor bear- 
ing on his brow the wreath of triumph. Violent was 
the inward struggle, yet faint were its outward indica- 
tions upon his placid countenance. Dark thoughts of 
vengeance at times crowded themselves upon his soul, 
and the false heart of Gideon already, in his fancy, 
quivered in agony, as its dark recesses were searched 
by the blade of his scalping-knife. But better thoughts, 


the inborn offspring of his own noble spirit, rose indig- 
nant, and chased away these base intruders. 

" No !" he said, internally — " Gideon is the son of 
Robert Aymor, the friend of Eonah, the benefactor of 
Eoneguski — but for Robert Aymor the false Chuheluh 
had laid Eoneguski low at Tohopeka. — Did Robert 
Aymor save the life of Eoneguski that he might slay 
his son ? — No ! rather let Eoneguski die, and let Gideon 
live and be happy. — And is not Gideon young?" he 
continued — "and did he come unasked to look upon the 
beauty of the Little Deer ? — Why did Eoneguski bring 
Gideon from the Homony to gaze upon the beauty of 
the Little Deer, and forget his friend in the madness of 
intoxication?" And then would his mind turn with 
crimination upon the Little Deer ; and, like other un- 
fortunate lovers, the falsehood and duplicity of the sex 
became fruitful themes for bitter reflection. The re- 
vengeful wish was now and then half formed that her 
union might prove unhappy, and that stung with disap- 
pointment, the inconstant beauty might have reason 
vainly to repine at her unwise selection. But honest 
shame for the weakness would strangle in the birth the 
ungenerous sentiment. " No !" would he murmur to 
himself—" let her live, and be as happy as her fathers 
in the land of the blessed. — May her corn be abundant 
— her table ever spread with game and venison. — May 
the sun always be bright in her sky, and may her hus- 
band cherish her forever with a love as strong and du- 
rable as would have been that of Eoneguski." 

Such were the thoughts which, in the first transports 
of disappointment, agitated the bosom of the Cherokee 
chief; but he soon began to look with more calmness 
upon his destiny, resolving to lead a life of celibacy, and 
fix the paternal feelings of his bosom, thus forever cut 
off from their natural objects, upon the whole people of 
Eonee, and hold them as the extensive family of his 

But he was not long suffered to enjoy, unmolested, 
this new dream of mitigated happiness and philosophic 


content. Scarcely had the treaty been signed which 
ascertained the territorial rights of the Cherokee In- 
dians, when the covetous eyes of the neighboring white 
people were fixed upon the fairest portion of their pos- 
sessions, and commissioners were appointed to negotiate 
for a purchase. The sad experience of past times filled 
Eoneguski with the most painful forebodings of the result. 
To negotiate had been, in the history of the intercourse 
between the white and the red men, but a term to ex- 
press less harshly a declaration, on the part of the former 
what lands they wanted of the latter ; the price they 
were willing to pay ; and their determination to have 
them at that price, " peaceably if they could, forcibly if 
they must." The village of his birth ; the scene of his 
early sports; of his youthful affections; of his manly 
trials ; the hearthstone ; the tombs ; the ashes of his 
fathers ; were all included in the present demand. With 
a prophetic eye he saw them already surrendered to the 
relentless grasp of the stranger, and the simple red men 
abandoning, in bitterness of soul, the homes of their 
fathers, which they ardently desired, but wanted the 
sagacity to retain. 

But the Eonee chief determined not to surrender, 
without an effort of peaceful opposition, these dear pos- 
sessions, and accordingly passed with rapid and unwea- 
ried footsteps from one portion to another of the Chero- 
kee country, entreating and urging the leading men of 
his tribe, by the most thrilling appeals, and the most 
convincing arguments, not to consent to the sale of their 
territory. He had the mortification, though not unex- 
pected by him, of finding himself, in many instan- 
ces, already forestalled, and that the personal advan- 
tages promised to some of the chiefs had blinded their 
eyes to official duty, and to the interests of those for 
whom they were acting as representatives. His morti- 
fication was, however, not unmingled with satisfaction, 
at ascertaining that a great number entered warmly into 
his views and feelings, and there was a flattering proba- 


bility that, in the council to be holden relative to the 
measure, his own party might prove the stronger. 

Gideon Aymor, by his marriage with the Little 
Deer, had acquired a voice potential, both as the imme- 
diate chief of Tesumtoe, and also as being, by alliance, 
the representative of the Cherokee kings, and conse- 
quently presiding chief of the nation. A white man, in 
all his prejudices and feelings, and destitute of any local 
attachments to spots sacred in the eyes of the whole 
Cherokee tribe, he was easily operated upon, by a con- 
siderable pecuniary advantage, personal to himself, to 
throw his whole weight in favor of the sale. 

Eoneguski and Gideon were thus fully arrayed 
against each other, as the leaders of their respective 
parties. The irritation of their late rivalry in love had, 
it might be supposed, scarcely yet subsided, when they 
were thus chafed into open personal strife by their po- 
litical relations. Each was indefatigable in enlisting 
partisans, in anticipation of the council that was to 
determine whether the ground on which their contest 
was chiefly maintained was to be alienated, or remain 
the property of its aboriginal possessors. They fre- 
quently met, and their strife occasionally grew so warm 
as to threaten an immediate and bloody issue. 

The eventful day at length arrived, and with it the 
commissioners of the United States, at Eonee. They 
spent the greater part of it in submitting their proposals 
to the assembled chiefs, and operating upon the hopes, 
the fears, the ambition, and avarice of the respective 
members of the council, according as they were most 
assailable. The night was dark and cloudy, but the 
council fires were lighted, and the grave leaders of the 
Cherokee nation were seated around them to debate the 
important question. Long and heated was the debate, 
and, at a late hour in the night, the party of Gideon pre- 
vailed, by a small majority. No expression of dissatis- 
faction or disappointment escaped the lips of the discom- 
fited party, but in an instant, as if upon a preconcerted 

E0NEGUSK1. 187 

signal, the council fires were extinguished, and the 
clashing of warlike weapons broke in upon the still- 
ness. Next came heavy blows, and then deep groans 
of agony. No articulate sound was heard in the thick 
melee, but the voice of Eoneguski, calling upon both 
parties to cease their unnatural strife, and reminding 
them they were brethren. — That T according to the cus- 
toms of their nation, a vote had fairly been taken, and 
that it was the duty of the vanquished party to submit 
peaceably to a result which, however he might himself 
regret, was yet lawful. For a long time his entreaties 
were like the breath of the winds upon the troubled 
ocean, serving only to aggravate the fearful turmoil. — 
But at length the sounds of strife grew fainter. Eone- 
guski had placed himself between the contending par- 
ties, and, at the infinite peril of his own person, accom- 
panied the mediatorial accents of his voice, by intercept- 
ing many a deadly blow from each side directed against 
an adversary. 

Towards the close of the scene, by the dim light, he 
discovered Gideon near him, bleeding and bloody, yet 
pressing on fiercely towards his antagonists. Now was 
vengeance for all his wrongs within the grasp of the 
Cherokee chief — his enemy within his reach, wounded, 
exhausted, and blind with passion — himself fresh, unin- 
jured, cool and collected — a single blow of his vigorous 
arm could lay the traitor dead at his feet, and none 
would suspect from whence the destruction came. The 
Little Deer might yet console him amid his afflictions. — 
" Gideon," he said, in a voice which, in spite of himself, 
quivered with emotion, "cease from blood. — It is Eone- 
guski. — It is thy friend who speaks. — His heart is warm 
with the memory of days that are past. — He has forgot- 
ten his displeasure. — Let Gideon live and be happy, 
and fill with comfort the heart of the Little Deer." 

At this moment a stout Indian was rushing upon Gi- 
deon, with his tomahawk elevated, to cleave him to the 
earth. There was no time for warning or interference, 
when a pale shadow passed between the white man and 


the assailing Indian. The shriek of a female was heard, 
as the tomahawk descended. The blood spouted out, 
both upon Gideon and Eoneguski, from the deep gash 
made by the trenchant weapon, as the shadow fell to 
the earth. Surprise at what had happened, chained 
motionless the lately impetuous Indian, and he did not 
renew his attack upon Gideon. Dark as it was, the 
battle ceased instantly, as it would have done in some 
ancient tournament, when the dropping of the warder's 
staff indicated the pleasure of the presiding power. 

"Alight! alight!" was the quick cry from both 
Gideon and Eoneguski. Not long were they in re- 
kindling a yet smoking firebrand, and bearing it to the 
spot where a young female lay upon the ground, with 
the blood gushing freely from her heart, in which the 
tomahawk had been deeply buried. She had evidently 
been handsome, although now an emaciated skeleton. 
Her dress, and the expression yet lingering in her coun- 
tenance, proclaimed that the fair and now lifeless body 
had recently been the tenement of an insane spirit. — 
This was all that could be read of her history by any 
present — save one. Gideon Aymor no sooner caught 
a glimpse of her face, half concealed by the blood- 
stained tresses, than he passionately exclaimed — " It 
is Patty Stevens!" and, turning away, retired from the 

Deeply affected were both the savages and the Ame- 
rican commissioners, when they looked upon this inno- 
cent victim of a strife, to which they were all in some 
measure parties, and interest actively awoke to learn her 

In that mysterious way, in which the most secret 
facts, if they possess any interest, gain publicity, the 
delicate and sentimental attachment of the sensitive crea- 
ture to Gideon became known ; and it farther appeared 
that, after his second departure to the Indian country, 
she continued to decline. — That her chief comfort was 
the society of her friend Atha, until, by an occurrence 
not uncommon in the history of consumption, the puimo- 


nary excitement was transferred to the brain, and she 
became frantic. After a time the violent symptoms of 
frenzy subsided, and her malady assumed the form of 
quiet melancholy, accompanied by a total absence of 
her reasoning- powers. In this state of mind her ex- 
treme attachment to Atha continued to manifest itself, 
and she would not consent to be long out of her pre- 

Soon after his marriage with the Little Deer, Gideon 
sent for his sister Atha, to whom many considerations 
concurred in making the invitation not less acceptable 
than exciting, and she accordingly went. The hapless 
victim of insanity, missing her friend, became restless 
and impatient, and finally made her escape, and arrived 
at Tesumtoe half starved and emaciated, by the preca- 
rious subsistence she had met with in her wanderings. 
There she took no notice of any one but Atha, whom 
she was delighted to see, manifesting her pleasure by 
all the indications proper to childhood. Of Gideon she 
seemed to have no recognisance ; but on the day of his 
departure to attend the council at Eonee, she also was 
missing. Doubtless she was led by an inexplicable in- 
stinct, for which the insane are remarkable, and had 
lingered unseen, as a sort of guardian spirit over the 
author of her misfortunes, until the clashing of arms 
brought her within the area where the council had been 
holden. She was just in time to interpose her own life 
between his and the weapon destined for its destruction. 

Several Indians, dead and wounded, were found upon 
the scene of strife, but the number was far less than 
might have been expected, unquestionably owing, in a 
great measure, to the interference of Eonesfuski. 




My task is done — my song hath ceas'd — my theme 

Has died into an echo ; it is fit 

The spell should break of this protracted dream, 


And what is writ — is writ ; 
Would it were worthier * * * 


The fruitless struggle was over, and the morning 
sun rose upon the stark and bloody bodies of the few 
Indians who had secured to themselves the possession of 
at least a few feet of their native soil, by dying in the 
contest for its destiny, and the contract was signed by 
which that beautiful country, now constituting the 
County of Macon, in North Carolina, was transferred 
from the Cherokees to the white people. 

As soon as the dead bodies of the Indians, who had 
fallen, were committed to the earth, and the other 
necessary arrangements could be made, the remains of 
Patty Stevens, attended by the American Commission- 
ers, Yenacona, Atha, Gideon, the Little Deer, and a 
very large number of Indians, including Eoneguski, 
were conveyed to the Homony with imposing solemnity, 
to repose forever beside its murmuring waters. 

Robert Aymor, who had returned from the South- 
western expedition, was greatly excited when he saw 
the distant party winding its way along the road we 
have so often had occasion to mention, and his parental 
bosom was disquited with apprehensions for one or both 
of his absent children. He was not long however in 
learning the melancholy truth, or in mingling his 
sympathy with the grief of the bereaved parents, who 
were summoned to his residence, where the funeral 
party had halted. The piteous tidings spread quickly 


to all the little farm-houses which skirted the Homony, 
and their tenants came flocking in to pay their last testi- 
mony of respect to their neighbor's daughter. 

When all that could reasonably be expected had ar- 
rived, and preparations were making to convey the 
deceased to her narrow bed, two individuals apparently 
fatigued and travel-worn, were seen approaching. No 
circumstances, however affecting, are sufficient to quell 
in the human heart the principle of curiosity, and few 
eyes but were now turned from that calm and quiet 
object lying before them, in the melancholy beauty of 
death, to the two persons advancing; and many were 
not long in detecting in one of them their lost acquaint- 
ance John Welch. The imagination of the reader 
must supply what followed this discovery. Deep sor- 
row and intense joy were seen mingling their currents — 
and tears for the dead were blended with shouts of joy 
for the unhoped for return of the living. 

" By de powers my man," said Welch's companion, 
" may de divil fly away wid me if I know wheder to 
laugh or cry whin 1 look yon way, and say de poor 
crater yonder, just about de age of my own Marry 
lying stiff and cowld, and de owld man and woman 
waping over har as if deir hearts were breaking — by 
de powers says I, but I must wape wid dem. — But I 
turn on de idder side, and sais de sparkle of de eye, and 
de smiling faces wid which so manny are resaiving 
you, and Jonathan, siz I, you may jist as will go crazy 
at onest wid plishure." 

When the excitement was a little over — " Who is 
this you have brought with you here," said Aymor, in 
an under tone to Welch. 

" He is one," replied Welch, "to whom I am greatly 
indebted — he is both a physician and blacksmith, and is 
commonly called Dr. Wooddie." 

" I am no stranger to him by name, although I have 
not to my knowledge seen him before," answered Ay- 
mor — " but he is heartily welcome to the Homony, both 
on your account, and his own." 


Doctor Wooddie was soon at home in the house of 
Robert Aymor, and it is only necessary to add, by way 
of explanation of his arrival with Welch, that having 
gone as a volunteer on the Southwestern expedition, he 
lingered a little after his discharge on his way home- 
ward, and arrived at the place where Welch was re- 
covered of his wound, just in time to accompany him to 
the Horn on y in his progress towards home. 

As soon as the simple ceremony of interring the 
young martyr to innocent affection was over, most of 
Robert Aymor' s guests departed, including the Com- 
missioners, who had completed their business, and the 
large body of the Indians who had attended them thus 
far. Some, of the guests remained to witness the espou- 
sals of John Welch and Atha, to which there was not 
only no longer any impediment, but they met the hearty 
approbation of the friends and relations of both parties. 

Eoneguski was reluctantly one of those who re- 
mained, but consented to do so that he might thereby 
testify the sincerity of his reconciliation with Welch, as 
well as conceal any appearance of chagrin at the dis- 
appointment of his hopes by the Little Deer. 

As soon as the wedding was over, Doctor Wooddie 
prosecuted his return to his blacksmith's and doctor's 
shop, on the Blue Ridge, to his termagant wife and sooty 
children, living to this day not only in fact, but in the 
everlasting records of the acts of Assembly. 

A few days more, and Aymor parted not . only with 
all his guests, but two of his children, who had, by 
marriage, become duly incorporated with the red peo- 
ple, whom, in the aggregate, he detested, however 
much he might esteem and regard particular individuals. 
Soon afterwards old lawyer Johns carried off his se- 
cond daughter, and has contributed his share, notwith- 
standing his very late beginning, to the fast growing 
population of the western region. 

Robert Aymor, now well stricken in years, with the 
dignified title of General Aymor, with a numerous 
posterity around him, still dwells on the Homony. As 


the hero of two wars, he was elected to represent his 
county in the General Assembly, where he was also 
chosen a Brigadier General of the State militia. 

His wife Dolly was delighted with this latter dignity, 
and in the joy of her heart, exclaimed upon his return 
home — " Bob Aymor, they tell me that they have madf 
you a Gineral — What shall I be called now?" 

" An old fool, as you always were ;" replied the im- 
patient husband, provoked at this new instance of his 
wife's folly. But he very soon, by some act of kindness, 
bound up the wound he had inflicted, and this ill- 
matched couple are likely to jog on to the end of their 
journey, as harmoniously as most whom fortune has 
paired, living in habits of intimacy with their old neigh- 
bors Welch and Stevens, who, with their respective 
wives, are still spared by Providence. 

After becoming the father of several children, lawyer 
Johns paid nature's great debt, and the places that once 
knew him, now know him no more. It is more than 
probable a similar fate has befallen the rest of the legal 
corps, practising at Waynesville, at the time mentioned 
in our story, 

For many years after our acquaintance with him in 
the vicinity of Waynesville, the hospitable mansion of 
Mr. Holland invited to its ever open door the wayworn 
traveller, who always departed with his body recruited, 
by a comfortable bed and wholesome viands, and his 
spirit refreshed by the unpretending piety and moral 
excellence of the worthy family, at the head of which 
the old man forcibly reminded him of one of the ancient 

John Welch and Gideon Aymor, with their respec- 
tive wives, and Yenacona, whose life, passing like a 
stormy day, now promised to close in brightness and 
peace, took an affecting leave of their friends on the 
Homony. To Robert Aymor's family the latter during 
her short visit had greatly endeared herself, and planted 
in the hearts of the younger members seeds of piety, 

VOL. II. — 17. 


which, in due time, it is to be hoped, sprang up into 
everlasting life. 

John Welch determined to assume the rights his 
maternity conferred upon him, and take his proper sta- 
tion in the great Cherokee family. On his arrival in 
the " Nation," he adopted the name of Oocomoo, which 
had been given him in infancy by the natives. His 
birthright divested Gideon of the chieftainship of Te- 
sumtoe, as well as the principality of the whole Chero- 
kee tribe — Oocomoo being descended from the oldest 
fruitful branch of the family of Moytoy. Besides this, 
the venerable Santuchee, who, preceded by his faithful 
Wattuna, had long been trembling on the very verge of 
existence, and was finally precipitated into the grave, 
by the determination of the tribe to alienate the lands in 
which Sugar Town was included, committed his people 
with his last breath, to the guardianship of Oocomoo. 

Tesumtoe was also within the territory recently trans- 
ferred to the white people, and consequently all such of 
its late proprietors as were not willing to mingle with 
the whites, subject to all the disadvantages of their taw- 
ny complexions, were compelled to seek for themselves 
anothor place of residence. Nothing remained to the 
tribe of those possessions, which once constituted the mid- 
dle settlements ; and a small corner on the Hiwassee was 
all that was left of their formerly innumerable Valley 
towns. On the Hiwassee Gideon, in right of his wife, 
was a large proprietor, and there determined to fix his 
home, where, profiting by his recent striking lessons of 
the heart, and the example of his amiable and pious wife, 
he lived prosperously, and, by comparison, virtuously, 
rearing a numerous and well-trained offspring. But 
arrangements, which extinguished the Indian title on the 
eastern side of the father of waters, forced him at length 
to seek a distant and untried home, teaching him, by bit- 
ter experience,, the natural tendency of those measures 
which, opposed by Eoneguski, had been advocated by 

Oocomoo, with his wife and mother, as the head chief 


of his tribe, transferred his residence, immediately after 
his marriage, to the Overhill territory, where he remain- 
ed until the event above mentioned, against the occurrence 
of which he made every effort in his power. Previous to 
his departure for the "Far West," nature, as if reluctant 
to remove Yenacona so distant from the remains of her 
beloved De Lisle, peacefully terminated her earthly 
trials, and gave to all of her that was mortal a resting 
place in her own land. She desired to be buried after the 
Christian manner, and that a plain black cross might 
mark the place of her sepulture at Tesumtoe. Her re- 
quest was strictly complied with, and Oocomoo and 
Atha dropped tears of affectionate regret over the extra- 
ordinary being, to whom the former owed his birth, ere 
they turned, with reluctant footsteps, to the untrodden 
wilds on the westward of the great Mississippi. 

Eoneguski foresaw with sagacious eye, that the red 
men, as a nation, were to find no permanent resting 
place until driven, like the predecessors of his fathers, 
beyond the ken of those who now coveted their pos- 
sessions. He felt that the people of Eonee were dis- 
solved, as a family, as soon as it was decided that 
their town must be sold, and that they should remove 
from those objects around which their affections had so 
long rallied in common. All the strong ties that 
bound him to his tribe had thus been severed ; — to- 
wards it he felt no longer drawn by those affections of 
the heart which would have led him to exclaim, in the 
beautiful and pathetic language of the Bible, " Whither 
thou goest, I will go ; and where thou lodgest, I will 
lodge — thy people shall be my people, and thy God my 
God — where thou diest I will die, and there also will I 
be buried." He preferred still to linger near the scenes 
of his joys and his afflictions — of his hopes and disap- 
pointments — where a tear of filial piety might occa- 
sionally water the grave of Eonah, and the pleasing 
dreams of his youth revisit his heart by the pale light 
of memory, while walking among the objects with 
which they were associated. 


Having 1 made known his purpose to his tribe, he 
accordingly converted all his property into moveables, 
and purchased of the State of North Carolina a large 
body of land upon the waters of the Oconalufty, in the 
County of Haywood. 

Thither he was followed by a number of his people, 
amounting to upwards of an hundred, who dwell on his 
lands, cultivating them for their own benefit, yielding 
to him only a competent support, and looking up to him 
as a father. Like the chieftain of a Highland clan in 
Scotland, he possesses over them unlimited control, but 
exercises it only with kindness and benevolence. 

Wissa, no longer a slave, but, according to the promise 
of Eonah, fulfilled by his dutiful son, a freeman, holds 
for this fragment of the red family the post of linkister, 
and conducts in that capacity its intercourse with the 
whites, with so much integrity and propriety as to main- 
tain for it that high respect which the noble and eleva- 
ted character of its head is so well calculated to inspire. 

With this faithful attendant upon his steps, may Eone- 
guski occasionally be seen, during the sessions of courts, 
both at Waynesviile and Franklin. The latter is the 
ancient site of Eonee, and the county seat of Macon 
County, as Waynesviile is of Haywood. At Franklin a 
deeper shade of melancholy settles over the countenance 
of our hero than at Waynesviile, but at either place the 
beholder is struck with his dignified and interesting 
appearance, and is irresistibly led to inquire, " Who is 
that?" The answer is always given in that subdued 
manner and tone of voice indicative of the deep respect, 
approaching to reverence, with which the speaker is ac- 
customed to look upon his person — ' It is EoneguskL — 
It is the old Chief."